


As long as we stay together (if we just stay together)

by HerotheHardWay



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora has panic attacks, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amundsen Scott Station, Angst with a Happy Ending, Antarctica AU, Anxiety, College Roommates, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Modern AU, Scientists AU, Service Dog!Swiftwind, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Some sexy time are had, and they were ROOMMATES, and they were lab partners, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-01-31 03:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 139,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21439369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerotheHardWay/pseuds/HerotheHardWay
Summary: Adora is an Astrophysics PhD student who just can’t seem to write her dissertation. When the opportunity arises to work at the IceCube Neutrino Detector at the South Pole, she jumps at the chance, even though she’ll be stuck there for six months during the Antarctic Winter. When she arrives, she discovers that her research partner is her former roommate, former teammate, former best friend, former, well, everything, who she hasn’t seen since they graduated from college five years ago.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 1696
Kudos: 4100
Collections: Catra/Adora predilection towards modern AU, Himmelslieds Collection of Catradora Goodness





	1. Welcome to the South Pole

The thrum of the plane engines makes Adora’s teeth buzz as she sits slumped against a cargo container. She might as well be the only passenger to Amundsen-Scott in this cavernous plane; two middle aged women boarded with her, but they immediately curled up together on the other side of the plane and fell asleep. The rest of the plane is crammed with storage containers. Her Bluetooth headphones ran out of battery a couple hours ago, and her phone is on 8%. Adora brought a Kindle on the recommendation of a friend, but she got it out of the packaging the night before the flight from Christchurch and it only has the user’s guide downloaded (which she’s already read. Twice.).

Adora’s not sleepy but she _is_ bored, so she punches her duffel into a more comfortable shape and lies down, staring at the ceiling. This is her second plane ride in as many days, after the one to McMurdo, and she’s full of pent-up energy from not being able to do anything except sit. There’d better be a decent gym down at Amundsen-Scott, otherwise she’ll go stir-crazy.

She’s been excited to go to the South Pole for months but now her stomach is a bundle of nerves: She’s realizing more and more as each hour of the plane ride ticks by that she’s traveling to one of the most isolated places on earth. What if nobody likes her? What if they all hate Swiftwind?

As if he knows she’s thinking about him, Swiftwind’s ears twitch in his sleep. He’s been well behaved in his crate this whole plane ride, and Adora sticks her fingers through the grate to stroke his head. He cracks his eyes open and tries to lick her hand. They don’t normally allow dogs at Amundsen-Scott, but an exception was made for Adora once her advisor pulled some strings and explained the situation. A vet had evaluated Swiftwind’s health and declared him to be in perfect health for a Samoyed (and most importantly, free of any transmittable viruses). It’s lucky that Adora will be collecting data on neutrinos instead of any kind of animal. Though if she has the opportunity, she’ll be signing up to go see the penguins as soon as possible. She sighs, turns to stick her face into Swifty’s thick fur, and closes her eyes. Maybe she’s a little tired after all.

It’s an hour later when Adora is woken by a change in the timbre of the engines. She blinks groggily and sits up. The interior lights of the plane are on, and outside it’s past sunset. She moves to the window and peers out into the twilight. And then she sees it. Her first glimpse of Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station. It’s a warm cluster of lights in an endless expanse of ice, and for some reason, every bone in Adora’s body knows that somewhere down there is _home_.

“Pretty amazing right?” someone says beside Adora.

Adora glances over at the woman peering out the window next to her. She’s pale and curvy, with a cascade of magenta hair falling down her back. “Yeah…” she says, full of awe.

“I remember the first time I saw it. Oh, what, fifteen years ago? I felt like it had cast a spell on me.” The woman fiddles with what must be her wedding ring.

“That was me, goofus!” the third passenger, a dark-skinned woman with a froth of blue hair says, coming up behind her and wrapping her arms around her wife’s waist. This woman turns to Adora. “Sorry, we haven’t introduced ourselves! I’m Netossa.” She offers her hand and Adora shakes it. “And this is—“

“Spinnerella, nice to meet you, uh…”

“Adora!” Adora exclaims brightly, a little more enthusiastically than necessary. She blushes, and realizes she’s still vigorously shaking Netossa’s hand. She lets go. “Sorry! I’m a little nervous about meeting everyone.”

Neither of the other women seem particularly perturbed at Adora’s awkwardness. Netossa grins, “Don’t worry about it. I think you’ll make friends in no time. We like to say that one week of South Pole time is like a month anywhere else.”

Adora can’t think of what else to say, so she just smiles some more.

Spinnerella asks kindly, “So, Adora, what team will you be working with?”

“The IceCube Lab, ICL? It’s a neutrino detector, I don’t know how much you know about that, um…”

Spinnerella laughs, “I’m a climate scientist myself, so not much, but I’ve been given the spiel before. Neutrinos come from the sun, right?”

Adora relaxes a little. These two seem genuinely friendly. “Yeah, we’re looking for extra-solar ones too, but those are rare.” At Netossa and Spinnerella’s confused expressions she adds, “Neutrinos that come from outside the Solar System, I mean.”

“Very exciting,” Netossa says, “We both work on ice cores, but I’m more of an environmental chemist.”

“Wow that must be interesting!” Adora says. One of the things she’s been most looking forward to about this trip is rubbing shoulders with people across scientific disciplines.

Netossa continues, “You’ll be working with some great people, Adora. Do you know who your supervisor will be?”

“Angella Brightmoon! I’m so excited to meet her.”

Netossa nods decisively, “Angella Brightmoon is a great Research Manager. She also supervises our team, so we have firsthand experience working with her. She’ll make sure you always have the best drivers when you go out into the field. At least if the weather cooperates…” She glances out the window, biting her lip.

Spinnerella adds, “And the other researcher you’ll be joining is amazing. Every time I talk to her I get my mind blown. You’ll _love_ working with her.”

Adora is smiling so hard her face is starting to ache. It all sounds amazing “I couldn’t believe it when my PhD advisor told me my application for the ICL had been accepted! It’s kinda been a lifelong dream to come here.”

“Well you’d better get ready for a wild six months, kid.” Netossa says. “And like they say…what happens at the South Pole stays at the South Pole.”

That’s…cryptic. Adora feels a twinge of her earlier nerves come back. “Uh, thanks?”

But all Netossa does is smile a little. “I imagine you’ll catch on pretty quick. I wouldn’t want to spoil things for you.” She glances at her watch, “I think we should be landing soon, so strap yourself in!” And with that, Netossa and Spinnerella walk back towards their bench on the other side of the plane, leaving Adora with even more questions than before. Just what is she getting herself into?

A voice comes over the PA a moment later. “_We’re getting ready to land, folks, so fasten your seatbelts please!_”

It’s only a minute later that Adora feels the plane descending, and then with a bump they land on the ice runway.

As the plane slows, Adora struggles to put on the giant red coat that had been issued to her back in Christchurch. She knows that as soon as the doors open, she’ll be exposed to the freezing temperatures of the Antarctic. It’s even colder here than at McMurdo, which in her twelve hours at that station never broke -10 C. A few minutes later she’s slinging on her heavy duffel bag and clipping Swiftwind’s leash on (He had also been issued thermal booties and jacket at Christchurch) before she takes her first steps on the most uninhabited continent on earth.

The icy air burns her lungs as they walk down the stairs, but fortunately a truck is waiting for them. Another person in a red snowcoat stands by the cabin door, and opens it as the four of them approach.

Adora clambers up into the cabin and Swiftwind leaps up after her. When she clicks her tongue, he obediently comes to sit between her knees. Netossa and Spinnerella hoist themselves up after her, and then the driver’s side door opens and the driver slides behind the steering wheel. He throws his hood back to reveal terrible _terrible_ hat hair and the most outrageous mustache Adora’s ever seen. “Sea Hawk,” he says, reaching over to shake Swiftwind’s paw.

Swiftwind obediently lifts a paw, and sniffs the man’s hand curiously.

Adora blinks. The next moment the guy (Sea Hawk? Is he introducing himself?) offers his hand to Adora as well. She shakes it dazedly.

“I’m Adora,” she says. “Uh so…Sea…Hawk? That’s your name?”

The man releases the emergency brake and shifts into gear, then glances quickly over at Adora. “HA! Yeah that’s what folks call me! It’s a nickname, obviously. But you’ll have to beat me at arm wrestling to learn my real name.” He grins and winks. “I’m pretty good at arm wrestling.”

The truck rumbles across the snow tarmac, heading towards Amundsen-Scott Station and the next half a year of her life. Adora’s gut twists unexpectedly, and she turns in her seat to try to get one last glimpse of the plane that brought her to the coldest continent on Earth. But it’s already been swallowed up by the twilight.

Adora barely has time to feel squished in the cab with three other people and a dog, before they arrive at a loading dock. Dirty snow meets up with the dull grey steel garage door, and Adora pulls her coat tighter around her as they pile out onto the loading dock platform. Sea Hawk extracts a walkie-talkie from one of many pockets and holds it up to his mouth, “We’re here, open up.”

A pause, then the walkie-talkie crackles, _“Oh! Be right there, just hang tight.”_

A few seconds later they’re momentarily blinded as the door is hauled up, warm yellow light spilling out from inside the station, silhouetting a tall, muscular white woman with a shock of short snow-white hair. She beckons them to come inside and instantly starts talking a mile a minute. “Hey y’all! Let’s see, hi Netossa, hi Spinnerella, good to see you guys, oh and hi! You’re new!” She sticks out her hand and when Adora takes it the other woman shakes it in an enthusiastic, but crushing, grip. “I’m Scorpia, I’m your resident Gear Guru and Safety Trainer! Who are you?”

Adora blinks. “Adora Sherman. I’m working on the IceCube?”

“Ohhhh my best friend works on IceCube. I bet you’ll work together, that’ll be so great! And oh my goodness you have a _dog!_” She gets down on Swiftwind’s level and offers her hand for him to sniff. He licks it and wags his tail, and she gives him a good hard scratch. It’s clear that Adora has a new competitor for Swiftwind’s affections. “Oh man, you’re such a good dog, aren’t you?” Scorpia grins, and Swiftwind flops over to expose his tummy, the traitor. She gives him a quick belly rub then gets to her feet. “Let me know if you ever need someone to watch him for a while, or walk him. I’m good with animals. What’s his name?”

“Swiftwind. Or Swifty if you want. And I’ll _definitely_ take you up on that.”

“Great! I’m looking forward to it.” Scorpia says and walks back to heave the garage door down again with a _thunk_. She runs her hand through her hair, making it stand straight up. “The pulley system is broken right now, but our mechanic is supposed to get around to it tomorrow I think,” she says in response to Adora’s questioning look. “Now lemme just go help Sea Hawk with your bags, and then I’ll show you to your rooms!” She opens a side door next to the bay entrance, and disappears into the cold, only to return a minute later carrying a duffel bag on each shoulder like they weigh nothing.

Seahawk is right behind her, panting under the weight of Adora’s one overstuffed bag, and he dumps it with a thud at her feet. “Adora, you are an amazing and brilliant scientist I am _positive_, but what do you have in your bag? _Rocks??_ How do you even carry this thing?”

Adora laughs nervously, “Oh, sorry! I packed everything as tight as possible and I guess that made it really dense?” She steps on Swiftwind’s leash, hefts her bag off the ground and slings it onto her back, fumbling for the second shoulder strap for a moment.

“I just met you but I respect the hell out of you already. See you three at dinner!” Sea Hawk gives a little mock salute and flips his hood up before heading back to the truck.

Spinnarella and Netossa exchange amused glances. Netossa says, “Forgot how much I missed Sea Hawk.” She addresses Adora, “There’s a lot of pretty weird people down here, but we’re like a family after you get to know everyone, you know? We have your back.”

That’s kind of what Adora has been counting on.

Scorpia leads the way through several hallways, explaining that there are two dorm halls that house everyone at the station, but in the winter, they consolidate into only one since there are so few people. “People like to cozy up in the winter, you know?” She wiggles her eyebrows in such a blatantly suggestive way that Adora blushes. And decides to ask _someone_ what exactly happens at Amundsen-Scott in the winter, as soon as possible.

“…Netossa, Spinnarella, I put you guys in your usual room, here’s your key!” She digs out a key attached to a fob shaped like a penguin and tosses it to Spinnarella, who catches it and tugs her wife towards the stairs.

“C’mon babe, we gotta settle in,” Spinnarella says and plants a smooch on Netossa’s cheek. Netossa lets herself be led up the stairs, and turns back for just a second to tell Adora that if she ever needs anything, they’re in room 204.

Scorpia beckons Adora down the hallway and leads her to what she assumes will be her home for the next several months. “And this is you! Room 115, and here’s your key! I think this keychain thing is supposed to be an elephant seal?” Scorpia holds the keychain up to her face and squints at it, “…yep pretty sure that’s what this is. You’re roommates with Glimmer Brightmoon; she’s an Amundsen-Scott veteran. She’ll show you the ropes.”

Glimmer _Brightmoon_? She must be related to Angella Brightmoon! Adora is definitely going to ask Glimmer all about her relative.

The room is clean and tidy and looks comfortable enough. There are two neatly made twin beds and two sets of closets and dressers and desks. If anything, it looks like Adora’s dorm back in college. One of the beds must be Glimmer’s; the pillowcase has a lavender pillowcase, and a colorful pink and gold crocheted blanket covers the plain comforter. Adora spies the hems of several items of clothes sticking out of the bottom of the closet. It seems like Glimmer must have cleaned up in quite a hurry but she appreciates the effort.

Adora walks over to the second bed and heaves her bag onto the floor next to it. Swiftwind leaps onto the bed and Adora has to grab him by the collar to pull him off. She turns back toward the door, “Hey Scorpia, could we stop by the kennel they set up for Swiftwind really quick?”

Scorpia pokes her head in and glances around the room. “Huh, I told Glimmer when you’d get here, but she must have gone to dinner already! Leave that stuff for later. Yeah let’s drop off your dog and then I’ll show you where the cafeteria is. Glimmer will probably be there!”

“Ok.” Adora says, and closes the door behind her. She pockets her room key and follows Scorpia back out of the dorm. The woman is unlike anyone she’s ever met. She seems to have a boundless supply of energy and enthusiasm, and Adora has a feeling she’s a pretty kickass training instructor for that exact reason.

Swiftwind’s kennel turns out to be a converted supply shed, with an enclosed semi-heated area attached to one side to allow him to run around when Adora can’t walk him. They’ve made a sort of doggie door mechanism to allow him to get to and from the yard by himself, and there are a couple brand new toys inside, along with a recent-looking heating unit that keeps the temperature tolerable. Swifty will be perfectly fine; all that fur will finally be useful. Adora knows he’ll love it, and she might end up spending time here instead of her room if her roommate turns out to be terrible. She’ll just have to wear her coat.

She gets Swiftwind settled with Scorpia’s help, then heads back towards the main part of the station. They enter in a _whoosh_ of warm air, and Adora can smell something mouth-watering. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was but at the prospect of food her stomach growls loudly.

Scorpia laughs and glances at her with a knowing look. “Hungry, huh? That plane ride really gets ya. Good thing we’ve got the best cook _ever!_ Razz is as old as bones but she’s smart as a whip and makes the best chili I’ve ever had. And her granddaughter is adoooorable. Hah, wait, do people ever say _you’re_ adorable? Adora—ble?”

Yes, Adora has heard that one. (She avoids thinking about who exactly used to call her that.) But Scorpia just met her, so she grins sheepishly and says, “Yeah I might have heard it once or twice.”

“Love it! Let’s get some food and then I’ll help you find Glimmer.”

They head towards the line. Someone bumps into Adora’s side and she glances down.

A young girl, ten or eleven maybe, looks up at her and mumbles an apology, then immediately fixates on her iPod. She huffs in frustration.

“No worries, just watch where you’re going kiddo.” Adora says.

“Ok sorry. Ugh I lost the Bulbasaur!” She groans, “I was so close!” The girl narrows her eyes and pokes a finger at Adora. “Next time, _don’t_ get in my way.”

The girl wanders away again and Adora stares after her. “Well that was rude.”

Scorpia just shrugs her head and smiles. “Kids! What can you do? That’s Frosta by the way, Razz’s grandkid.”

“_That’s_ the adorable kid??” Adora asks in disbelief.

“Yeah! She’s really great when she warms up to you a little!”

“Uh, whatever you say…”

The line moves quickly and next thing Adora knows, a steaming pile of pasta is poured onto her plate by an extremely old, extremely short cook who can only be Razz. The old woman studies her as she piles on a second scoop. Adora is grateful that this woman has gotten at least one thing right about her: her stomach feels like it’s about to eat itself. Razz mutters something as she turns away, and she stops. “Sorry?”

Razz glances up from serving Scorpia. “Don’t mind me, dearie. But do come visit me if you need an ear to listen. You might need one.”

“Um, ok, I’ll, uh, do that. Thanks.” Adora says. She grabs a fork and looks across the cafeteria at all the unfamiliar faces. The feeling is too familiar. It was the same at every new school she started (And there had been a lot). Her steps slow as she frantically scans the room for an empty table, or a friendly face. And she _does_ see someone familiar! A face she’s seen countless times on the website, and on news articles since deciding to come to Amundsen-Scott. _Angella Brightmoon._

She hurries over. _Angella Brightmoon_ is sitting alone, occasionally eating a bite of pasta as she frowns slightly at her laptop. She looks exactly like she does in her author photo in all the articles.

“Dr. Brightmoon! Hi!” Adora says, holding her hand out, “I’m Adora Sherman, I just arrived here today.”

Dr. Brightmoon looks up at her, and her eyes take a second to focus on Adora (Not surprising, she’s probably been hard at work for hours already). She gets halfway up from her seat to shake Adora’s hand. Adora nearly passes out from excitement. “Yes, Adora…I remember your application.”

_She remembers her application?_

“Wow, um, wow I didn’t expect you to…but of _course_ you did,” Adora fumbles to say something at least moderately intelligent, “I have read—so many good things about you Dr. Brightmoon. You’re like. A _legend. _Um. It’s an…honor…_” _Well. The best that could really be hoped for is a non-negative impression. Adora shrivels up inside a little.

Dr. Brightmoon looks a bit bemused, but says with a faint smile, “Well, thank you Adora. Nothing I’ve done was by myself of course,” _Modest, of course she is, _“ but I look forward to working with you as well.” Angella raises one elegant eyebrow, “Your credentials are quite impressive.”

“Gosh—um—thank—“ She’s saved from further embarrassment by Scorpia coming up and tugging her elbow.

“Hello Dr. Brightmoon, sorry to interrupt you,” Scorpia begins, and Dr. Brightmoon’s expression darkens perceptibly.

“Adora will be working under me, Scorpia,” She says coldly.

Scorpia tugs more insistently on Adora, “Oh, shoot, you know, I’m sorry, I just came to get her to introduce her to Glimmer.”

At this, Dr. Brightmoon’s momentary drop in expression smooths over, and she stands up, gathering her papers and computer together, and waves them away, “Oh, in that case…it was good to meet you Adora,” she says as Scorpia steers Adora across the cafeteria. Scorpia’s tight grip loosens when Dr. Brightmoon exits the cafeteria.

Scorpia mutters to her as they head toward a table in the corner, “Sorry I didn’t realize you were with Dr. Brightmoon,” which only further confuses Adora.

But a second later Scorpia exclaims, “Ah there she is! Glimmer!”

A young Filipino woman with cotton-candy hair turns fully around in her seat, and Scorpia leads Adora right to her. “Hey Glimmer, meet your new roommate, Adora! She’s cool and you’re super awesome, so I know you’re gonna get along!”

Glimmer stands up and offers her hand to Adora. “Hi, welcome to the South Pole!”

Adora fumbles to try to extract a hand from holding her food, but by the time she’s freed one, Glimmer has already sat back down. “Sit with me and Bow! Here.” She pats the chair beside her and Adora obediently sits, feeling a little bit like a prisoner of social niceties. What if Glimmer is a total jerk? What if she doesn’t like Adora? What if—

Glimmer turns back to Scorpia and says quietly, “I saw what happened just now, you’d probably better leave.” Scorpia grimaces and nods, then heads towards a table of people on the other side of the cafeteria. Glimmer faces Adora, “So. Tell us all about yourself.” she demands, leaning forward on her elbows. “Oh, also, this is Bow, he’s my best friend and we hang out all the time. We work on ice cores.”

The second person at the table, who must be Bow, grins at her. “Yeah we’re pretty serious about dating those ice cores. No time for frivolous relationships when you’re _hashtag committedtothecores_.” He holds out his knuckles for Glimmer.

Glimmer snorts. “Seriously? That was weak! And you don’t _have_ to remind me about my lack of a love life.” She resignedly fist bumps him anyway.

“What?! C’mon Glimmer you know that was an excellent joke.” Bow turns to Adora, “Aaaanyway we’re talking about _you_. How’d you end up drawing the short straw on your research team to be down here all winter? What are you going to be working on? What do you normally do back in civilization? How do you get your hair to do that?” Bow and Glimmer are both leaning forward, waiting on bated breath for her to speak.

“I, uh…” Adora clears her throat and starts over. “I went to Etheria University and majored in Astrophysics, and I’m about to get my PhD from, um, University of Wisconsin. I actually volunteered to come down here, my research group needed someone to do some instrumentation tune ups and I’ve always wanted to visit Antarctica. Uh, so yeah I do neutrinos.” She tries to think of what she’s missing. “Oh! I played hockey in college! And a little bit after too, before I started grad school.”

Bow is squinting at her funny. “You played hockey for Etheria?”

“Yeah?”

“And where after that?”

Adora blushes. She always avoids bringing it up when she first meets people, because they get _weird_ about it, but Bow clearly recognizes her. “Um…Sochi?”

Bow’s eyes widen. “Oh. My. God. You’re _She-Ra!” _he gasps.

Adora scratches the back of her neck sheepishly. “Yeah that’s my nickname…”

Bow is practically vibrating with excitement. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m meeting you. Oh my god. Holy shit!!”

Glimmer is looking back and forth between Bow and Adora. “Wait. She-Ra like Team USA? Woah. I watched that final with Bow. You’re like, _good_.”

Adora is regretting her decision to keep her hairstyle exactly the same for the past five years. She’s too recognizable. Not in her PhD program, sure, but apparently ice core people are a little more into sports. She hisses, “Yeah ok I’ll autograph something for you, just calm down!”

Bow makes a sort of high pitched screaming noise and Glimmer gives him the side-eye. He cuts off. “Oh right. Sorry. I just got really excited. You’re like. My _idol_.”

“Um. Thanks?” Adora says awkwardly.

All three of them pause for a moment, and Adora takes the opportunity to start eating. The food is _amazing_. Scorpia wasn’t messing around about the cook. “Wow, this is. So good.” She shovels more penne into her mouth.

Bow grins, “Yeah I think it’s a vodka sauce? The last shipment came in with you, so Razz probably didn’t have time to use the fresh stuff.”

Adora takes a sip of water, “What’s the deal with the kid though?”

Glimmer groans, “Frosta? Yeah she’s a real ball of sunshine, huh.”

“She ran into me in the line, I mean physically. I got the feeling she, uh, wasn’t a fan.”

Bow shrugs. “Eh, she’s like that with everyone.” He pauses, “Well, except Glimmer. Frosta’s the only kid here. And I don’t know the exact details, but I can’t imagine her parents are too great if the next best option was sending an eleven year old to the South Pole with her ancient grandmother.”

Glimmer points her fork at Adora. “Here’s the deal. We’re all nice to her, got it? No matter how _annoying_ she is, don’t be rude back.”

Adora sits up straighter. “Got it. Be nice to Frosta.”

Glimmer looks thoughtful for a second, then glances around the cafeteria. She says, “Actually, we should probably give you a rundown of everyone here. It’s easier if we just tell you now, instead of you trying to figure it out on your own.”

Bow nods. “Definitely. Time for a crash course.”

“Ok,” Glimmer begins, “you know who Razz is, obviously. Brilliant cook. She’s basically all of our crazy grandma’s rolled into one person. Gives pretty solid advice if you ever need it, and she _doesn’t_ gossip. Don’t piss her off though or you’re gonna get green beans straight out of the can for a week.”

Adora makes a face at that. She hates green beans.

Glimmer jerks her head at the table that Scorpia had joined. “Over there you’ve got a lot of technical crew. Scorpia is one of our training instructors, and she’s best friends with Entrapta, with the purple hair, chief engineer. Entrapta can fix basically anything. She’s an actual genius, I’m pretty sure. I’ve never seen someone get a broken CAT back in working order so quickly. Also Kyle, Lonnie, Rogelio. Maintenance and Communications.” After the first gesture at the group, Glimmer, strangely, doesn’t look at them, instead staring rather fixedly at the salad bar.

“Mermista, _please_, work with me here!” Adora sees Sea Hawk talking to a tall Indian woman. Both are holding meal trays.

“Ugh,” the woman says, rolling her eyes, “We had lunch together. I’m eating with Perfuma.” She carries her tray to an empty table that already has one red coat hanging on the back of a chair and plops down. Sea Hawk trails after her for a few steps, but evidently changes his mind and after a glance toward the cafeteria door, hesitantly goes over to Scorpia’s table and sets his tray down next to her. She smiles and pats his back, _hard_, judging from Sea Hawk’s expression.

Bow watches her watch the interaction play out. “Sea Hawk drove you from the plane, right? He’s _supposed _to just be an electrician and welder, but actually he’s the best driver here.”

Glimmer says in a low voice, “Mermista, that woman he was talking to, she and Sea Hawk have history like you wouldn’t _believe_. She acts like she can’t stand him, but me ‘n Bow have a bet going on when they’re gonna get back together. I say less than a month.”

Bow rolls his eyes. “Glimmer. Mermista won’t even talk to Sea Hawk. _How are they supposed to get together?_”

Adora says hesitantly, “Uh, didn’t Mermista say they ate lunch together though?”

Glimmer grins at Adora. “I’m _so_ going to win this. Ok anyway, the most important part: everyone sitting with Scorpia except Sea Hawk are supervised by _Shadow Weaver_,” she says, voice dropping to a whisper at the name, “Her last name is Weaver and nobody knows her first name. And she’s hella scary when she’s mad. Call her Dr. Weaver to her face but even her own team calls her Shadow Weaver behind her back…When you see her you’ll know what I mean. Normally C—“

_CRASH!_

Glimmer is interrupted by the sound of breaking glass, and they all twist around to see what happened. A woman with long blonde hair pulled back into a thick braid has one hand over her mouth, and at her feet are the remains of a drinking glass. She says, “Oh gosh, I’m sorry!” She turns towards the kitchen, but Razz is already hurrying out with a broom and dustpan.

The cook shoos her away and starts sweeping. “Oh don’t worry about it dearie, just go get a new glass, and try to remember to get plastic this time?”

The blonde woman nods, face red with embarrassment, and carries her tray over to Mermista’s table. Slowly the cafeteria fills with noise again.

Glimmer shakes her head. “That’s Perfuma. She’s always breaking stuff, but she’s the nicest person you’ll ever meet. She’s the other training instructor, so you’ll see her tomorrow! Mermista and Perfuma are super close. And I’ve seen her hanging out with Entrapta sometimes…but keep that last part on the DL. My mom would go _nuts_ if she knew they were friends.”

“Wait. Dr. Brightmoon is your _mom!?_”

Glimmer winces, “It’s my personal burden to bear.”

“She’s brilliant! I’ve read her papers!”

“Yeah, well, when you’re related…” Glimmer presses her lips together in a way that seems to indicate she has more to say, but isn’t going to in such a public setting. “Anyway. Moving on, we of course are your beloved ice core crew, plus Castaspella, Netossa and Spinnerella also work with us.”

“Oh!” Adora interrupts, “I met them! Netossa and Spinnerella I mean.”

“Yeah they and my mom go waaaay back. All three of them are basically my aunts at this point. Well, Casta is actually my aunt. It’s nice, most of the time,” Glimmer says, then mutters, “although _sometimes_ I wish I had a few less relatives in this place…”

Bow pipes up, “I _wish_ I had as many gay aunts as you.” He turns and leans toward Adora and lowers his voice, “But seriously. The most important thing you need to know right now is that there is a _feud_."

“A _what?_”

“A feud. An age old disagreement! A tale as old as—“

“Don’t be dramatic.” Glimmer cuts in.

“It’s _so_ dramatic though. So basically, Shadow Weaver and Dr. Brightmoon are like, rivals. They’re always applying for the same grants, and there’s some _major_ bad blood between them from way back when, but nobody’s totally sure what happened.” Bow checks over his shoulder to make sure nobody is close by. “The point is, they hate each other. They each oversee half of the staff, and if they notice that you’re _fraternizing _with the_ enemy_? Let’s just say…we don’t see those people any more.”

Adora’s eyes widen.

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “Ok now you _really_ are being dramatic. Adora, don’t worry, nothing bad will happen. You just…um…might not get invited back?” Her voice pitches up at the end.

Adora frowns. “That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

Bow says, “It’s _not_ nothing, that’s why we’re telling you about it. But don’t worry, none of us actually hate each other, we just…can’t hang out? When Shadow Weaver or Dr. Brightmoon might see us? Or act friendly towards each other. At all.”

Things are starting to make a little more sense. “Is that why Scorpia got all weird when she was talking to Dr.—er, your mom?”

Glimmer grimaces, “Pretty much. She must have thought you were assigned to Shadow Weaver, but then you weren’t…anyway. It’s pretty easy to avoid each other in public spaces.”

Bow winces. “Weeeelllll sometimes it can…”

“But that never happens.”

“Are you _sure_ about that?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Whatever you say...”

Glimmer’s eyes widen. “Oh! I forgot someone! You’ll be working with her, how could I forget? Adora have you met…“

But Adora’s eyes are locked onto a figure that just appeared at the doorway to the cafeteria. She’d recognize that silhouette anywhere. Her heart is racing, and she stands up so fast she knocks her chair over with a clatter. The woman at the door pushes her hood off, revealing a mane of curly brown hair and familiar mismatched eyes that somehow find Adora _instantly, _and widen in shock. Then the woman’s face is a mask of indifference.

It’s the face that Adora saw the last thing each night and first thing in the morning for four years, and the expression that broke her heart. Adora breathes one word. “_Catra_.”

Glimmer looks up, startled at Adora’s sudden move. “…yeah, Catra, how did you know? She works on the IceCube too!”


	2. Told before and told again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Alcohol use/underage drinking.

No, no no no no no. Here. Of all places. _Why is Catra here?_ Adora is frozen in place, staring at the woman across the room from her. She notices in some corner of her mind that isn’t currently on a loop of _Catra is in Antarctica Catra is in Antarctica_ _I’m stuck here for six freaking months and Catra is in Antarctica_ that Catra looks, well, great. Just standing there in the doorway, clearly caught off guard, she seems confident and settled in a way that she never quite managed in college, even by their senior year. And wow. Adora hasn’t seen her since their senior year. That was…five years ago.

Glimmer clears her throat. “Um, earth to Adora? Is something wrong?”

Adora manages to tear her eyes away from Catra and slowly reaches back to right her chair and sit in it. She looks at Glimmer in a daze, and only realizes after a minute that Glimmer is talking to her. “…and she’s kind of a big deal in the Astronomy world from what I hear, I guess she’s co-authored some pretty groundbreaking papers and she’s only at her first post-doc? This is her second time down here and the guy she worked with last time would not stop raving about her. So do you know each other or something?”

“Uh, we, uh, went to college together. I…didn’t know she worked down here.” Adora mumbles, tracking Catra’s progress first to the dinner line, then over to sit with Scorpia out of the corner of her eye. Adora starts eating her food as fast as possible. The faster she finishes, the faster she can get out of here and the less likely it’ll be that she has to interact with Catra, right here in the cafeteria.

“Wow that’s so cool! I bet you took classes together and stuff then!” Glimmer says brightly.

“…yeah, a bunch.”

“It’s weird she didn’t come over to say hi if you know each other…”

“Um. We…weren’t close?” Adora internally cringes at the way it sounds like a question. Ha. That’s the biggest lie she’s ever told. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch up with her later.” _Liar._ She’s going to avoid Catra at all costs. She finishes dinner in record time. _“_I have to go check on Swiftwind, I’ll see you guys later. Swiftwind is my dog.” She adds at Glimmer and Bow’s confused expressions.

Bow’s eyes widen. “You have a dog? Here? We are _so_ meeting them later!”

“Yep you totally can! He loves people!” Adora says, gathering up her dishes. “Ok see you!” She speed walks over to the dish pit and dumps her dishes and silverware in the soapy water, then hotfoots it out of the cafeteria, the door swinging back and forth behind her. She hurries down the hall towards the dorms.

She almost makes it to the double doors. But as she’s reaching for the handle of the door, she hears a too-too familiar voice say, “Hey Adora.”

Adora aches at the words, her traitorous heart skipping a beat. She swallows hard, and straightens up, but she doesn’t turn around. “Catra,” she acknowledges, gritting her teeth.

“Is that how you greet all your friends Adora?” Catra purrs. She sounds exactly the same and Adora desperately wants to turn around and _look at her_. But once she does, she will have lost. She’s not sure what game it is they’re playing, but that would be losing.

“No. Because we’re _not friends_.” Adora practically growls.

Footsteps echo in the empty hallway, and she senses Catra coming up to her. So close she can feel the heat of her body. When Catra speaks, her breath is warm against the back of her neck, and an involuntary shiver goes through her. “Whatever you want, Adora. Fine, we’re not friends. I wouldn’t want to be friends with _you _anyway. But we _are_ collegues…again.” Catra gets even closer, so close that a curl of her hair tickles Adora’s ear.

Adora’s eyelids flutter closed for just an instant. Her built-up tolerance to Catra’s presence is long gone. Catra murmurs in Adora’s ear, “I can’t _wait_ to work with you.”

Adora is so focused on _not flinching, not turning towards Catra not moving _that she forgets to respond. Several long moments tick by, her standing frozen facing the door, Catra so close she can smell her hair product. (It’s the same one.)

She mentally shakes herself. _Get it together Adora!_ She strides forward and pushes the door open so hard it hits the wall with a _BANG! _She marches down the next hallway without looking back, and regrets it a moment later when she realizes she has no idea where she is. Dammit. She can’t stop, can’t look back. She knows Catra is watching, and to do either would be to admit incompetence. But Adora doesn’t walk away fast enough to miss what Catra calls out after her. What she’s been bracing herself for since Catra appeared a few minutes ago.

“See ya around, _She-Ra!”_

Adora’s fury at those words, spoken by Catra, whites out everything else in her mind. She storms back to her dorm (after taking three wrong turns) and fumbles with the lock of room 115. She unzips her duffel and digs through it, not caring that she’s making a colossal mess. And, _yes_ here they are, packed into the center of her bag. Grabbing her hockey stick and bag of tennis balls she leaves her room, slamming the door behind her. A few minutes later she’s in Swiftwind’s kennel, pulling a stack of buckets out from a larger pyramid of gear and setting up the crude facsimile of a goal by the door. Swiftwind perks up when she first arrives, but she tells him, “Later, Swifty.” He obediently trots back to his bed and curls up, and she turns back to the buckets.

Adora backs up and eyes the goal critically. It’ll do. She peels off her outer coat and grabs her stick, does a couple experimental movements. She snags a tennis ball and lines it up, and shoots. Score. _Thunk_. The ball bounces off the door and to one side. She lines up another ball, shoots again. Score. _Thunk. _Rinse and repeat. Shoot. Score. _Thunk. _Again. Again.

It’s a long time later when Adora finally surfaces. She’s weary in her bones, like she just took a difficult exam_ and_ ran a 10k, and her hands and wrists are fatigued. But the knot in her stomach has finally loosened. She closes her eyes for a moment, feels the sweat prickling along her spine. Then she goes to Swiftwind’s bed, leans against the wall, and slides down until she’s sitting on her butt, resting her head against her knees.

She feels Swiftwind do what he does best, nuzzling his head under her forearm until she lifts it enough for him to curl up right next to her. She automatically scratches him under the chin and his tail starts thumping against the dog bed. Adora lets the tension drain out of her shoulders and she tips onto her side, knees still up against her chest. Swiftwind tries to lick her face, and she can’t help laughing. “No, Swifty! What’re—ack gross!” She says when he manages to get dog drool all over her ear. She wipes at it with the back of her hand, then wraps one arm around his body and buries her face in his fluffy fur. How did things go from being so perfect, to being a perfect disaster?

_See ya around, She-Ra! _The words echo in her mind. Hockey nicknames are weird, and Adora doesn’t totally know how her college team had gotten from “Sherman” to “She-Ra”, but it had stuck like glue. By the time she graduated even her professors sometimes forgot her actual last name. Being Etheria’s top scorer meant she ended up in almost every issue of the school newspaper, and the sports columnists loved her nickname too, because that’s all they called her in the articles on their games. Catra had never called her She-Ra except to tease her, at least until the end. She’d always just been…_Adora._

She hasn’t thought about it in years. But now? How many times had they parted that exact way back in school, hundreds? Thousands? Every day for four years was a lot of days.

##  _August, Freshman Year_

Adora unpacks her clothes into her residence-hall-standard dresser on a blisteringly hot August afternoon. The only people on campus yet are student athletes, and she hasn’t seen any signs of life on her floor.

Someone knocks twice on the open doorframe, and asks, “Are you Adora?”

Adora sits back on her heels and wipes the sweat off her forehead, then turns and looks toward the doorway. A girl her age is standing at the entrance to her room, holding the straps of several bags in one hand, and a red folder identical to the one Adora had been given, in the other. She’s wearing a maroon crop-top, frayed denim shorts and neon green flip-flops. An elastic headband is holding back her mane of curly brown hair, and when Adora meets her eyes, she notices that her new roommate (because who else could it be) has one blue eye, and one green. She’s also drop-dead gorgeous, but Adora is very used to compartmentalizing, and this girl is her roommate, _and_ teammate. Super off-limits.

Adora gets to her feet, knees cracking after being made to kneel for so long. “Yeah, hi. Catra right? Um, nice to meet you!” She sticks out her hand and Catra looks at it, then at her very full arms. She sticks the red folder between her thighs and shakes Adora’s hand quickly, then grabs the folder again and lugs her bags over to the bed that _doesn’t _have a pile of boxes and bags on it.

Catra dumps her stuff on her bed, then walks out of their room again. “I’ve got a bunch more stuff downstairs, I’ll be back in a minute!” Her footsteps thump back down the hallway.

Adora stares after Catra for a minute. She can’t believe it. That’s her roommate! Her college roommate! She knew she’d be roommates with another first year hockey player, but it hadn’t hit her until right now that she’d be, you know, a real person. They’d emailed a couple times once they’d gotten their assignment, but it’s different writing each other about storage, and meeting someone in real life. Catra seems pretty ok. Adora has dealt with a lot of bullshit roommate setups, and she can tell this one won’t be terrible.

Catra returns, carrying a huge cardboard moving box. She bumps into the doorframe on her way in, and peers around the box to see where she’s going. “_Fuck_ this thing is heavy. What was I thinking—oof. So,” she squats and lowers the box to the ground, “when’d you get here?”

Adora sits on her bed and props her head up on her hands. “Oh like a couple hours ago, and I’ve pretty much just been unpacking.”

Catra scans the room quickly, and Adora just _knows_ she’s noting the posters that are well-worn at the corners, and the handmade quilt on her bed. None of it has that new-for-college sheen, because Adora has had everything in this room for years. But Catra doesn’t comment on that fact. “I like your quilt.”

Adora glances down at it. It’s a colorful patchwork of warm reds and golds. It always reminds her of a sunset. “My grandma made it.” Adora doesn’t mention that her grandma died when she was little. No need to start off with the sob story.

“Whoa that’s so cool! I’ve just got boring Pottery Barn.” Catra says, rolling her eyes, and points towards the cardboard box. The corner of one of those clear zip-up bags new bedding come in is visible, dusky pink flowers on a dark maroon background.

** _Two weeks later, 1:30 AM_ **

“DO YOU NEED ANOTHER DRINK?” Adora shouts in Catra’s ear over the thumping of the music.

It’s dark and humid in the fraternity basement, and Adora has a drink in her hand, which she takes another gulp of. She and Catra are dancing, but it’s hard when people are packed in like sardines. Which Adora is reminded of when someone bumps into her from behind, sending her pitching toward Catra.

She throws up her hands to catch herself, but, whoops, she forgot about the drink in her hand. It sloshes straight onto Catra’s front, darkening the leotard Catra is wearing under her shorts. “Shit!” Adora exclaims, and fumbles to untie her sweatshirt from her waist and use it to soak up some of the beer she just spilled on Catra.

Catra wrinkles her nose and picks at her top, which is now plastered to her skin with beer. “Groooossss,” she whines.

Adora’s sweatshirt isn’t very absorbent, as it turns out, so she leans close and shouts, “BATHROOM” and grabs Catra by the wrist. She leads the way through the writhing crowd to the stairs up to the first floor of the frat.

Adora starts up the stairs, still tugging Catra behind her. They manage to squeeze their way past other students who are going _down_ the stairs, and then with a rush of cool air they’re back up to the first floor. Adora leans heavily against a wall, Catra next to her. They’d done shots in their dorm with some tequila that another girl in their hall had gotten (Adora’s first shot. And then her second. They’d both tasted like gasoline), and then there was the beer before the one that’s all over Catra now. Adora never drank in high school, so this feeling is new.

A frat bro walks past, and Adora manages to focus on him. “…Hey! Where’s the bathroom?”

He stops and turns toward them for a second, gesturing toward the stairs, “Upstairs and to the left.” He disappears down the stairs to the basement.

Adora belatedly calls, “Thanks!” after him. She pushes off the wall. “C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Catra stands up straight, and runs lightly up the stairs.

“Hey! Wait for me!” Adora says, and follows.

The bathroom has about a dozen girls in various stages of intoxication in it, and only two stalls. And, they find out a minute later, no toilet paper.

Catra glances down at her nearly empty Solo cup, and drains it in one go, then tosses it in the overflowing trash. “Let’s go back. I’ll get a different shirt. And then we can come back!” She grins brightly.

They meander back to their dorm. The fall air is crisp and cool on Adora’s sweaty face, and her head feels clearer out of the dark, loud basement. After a minute, Catra crosses her arms tightly against the cold.

Adora offers Catra her sweatshirt. “You’ll be warmer.”

“I’ll get beer on it…” Catra protests weakly, but she takes the sweatshirt and pulls it over her head.

“S’ok. My fault anyway. Sorry.”

“Hey, it was kind of a shitty party anyway.”

Adora wrinkles her nose, “It kinda was. What were they even playing?”

“Fuck, I dunno, music from the asscrack of Hell?” Catra cackles.

Adora laughs, and links arms with Catra as they make their way across campus. “My ears were bleeding after five minutes!”

“_My_ ears were bleeding after four!”

They’re back to their dorm in a minute, and Adora fumbles for her keycard and swipes them into the building. The hall is quiet, everyone either already in bed, or out partying.

When they get back to their room, Adora plops onto Catra’s bed as her roommate grabs a towel, and then trails after her to the bathroom. Adora perches on the bathroom counter, legs pulled up to her chest, as Catra strips and hops into the shower.

The shower turns on, and Adora leans her head against the mirror and closes her eyes. This is the first time she and Catra have really hung out together outside of team meals and the expected roommate interactions. It’s…nice. Easy. It’s easy to be friends with Catra. She always seems to know what Adora’s going to say, even before she says it. Catra was the one that suggested they go out tonight, when she caught wind that a frat was throwing a party. 

After a few minutes, the shower turns off, and she hears Catra pull the curtain open. She stays curled up on the bathroom counter and manages to pry her eyes open. Catra has her towel wrapped around her and her beer-soaked clothes bundled in one hand. Her normally voluminous hair is weighed down by water, inches longer than it is when dry. There’s a drop of water on her collarbone—_no!_

Adora scoots off the counter and they go back to their room. She flops down on her back on her own bed, feet still resting on the floor. She closes her eyes again and listens to Catra move around the room.

“Do you really want to go back?” She mumbles after a minute.

The bed dips down as Catra sits down next to her. “I dunno, now that I showered, not so much,” Catra yawns, which makes Adora yawn too.

“Cool,” Adora says after several seconds. She feels perfectly content to just lie here on her bed.

“Adora, just change now. You don’t want to sleep in those clothes.”

That sounds like a great idea, except exhaustion has crept into every corner of Adora’s body. She stays lying on her back. Until Catra pokes her in the side. She shies away and giggles. “Ah!”

“C’mon, get up!” Catra pokes her again, and Adora curls away from her, but Catra keeps poking her.

“Fine! Look, I’m up!” Adora grumbles.

Once she’s changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, she flops down to sit next to Catra and leans her head against the wall, staring at the fairy lights strung up on Catra’s wall. “I’ve never done shots before.” She says.

Catra turns and looks at her. “Really?” She sounds surprised.

“Never went to the parties in high school.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno…never had any friends I wanted to go with…couldn’t risk it with hockey…curfew…bunch of stuff.”

“That sucks.”

Adora makes a quiet noise of agreement.

Catra is quiet for a minute. Then she says, “Well, you didn’t miss much. College parties are _way_ better than high school ones so far. Even if the music kinda sucked. People aren’t waiting to get busted by their parents.”

Adora snorts, “Only the cops.”

“Well at least you won’t get busted by the cops _and_ someone else’s parents.”

Adora leans her head against Catra’s shoulder. “Promise you’ll bring me with you when you go out?”

Catra laughs, “Yeah! I promise to always bring you with me to parties.”

Adora sticks out her pinkie.

“Really? Pinkie swears?” Catra rolls her eyes, “What are you, six?”

“Yeah, so you going to?” Adora says good-naturedly.

Catra sticks out her pinkie too, and they lock their fingers together. Adora lets her hand fall to the bed, and is mildly surprised when Catra’s hand follows, pinkies still linked. She glances over at her.

Catra is looking at their hands next to each other. She lets out a long breath and asks in a softer voice, “Promise we’ll stick together no matter what?”

Adora can tell that there’s more to this than she understands right now. But it’s still easy to agree because Catra fits with her so exactly, it’s hard to imagine why they’d ever stop being friends. “I promise,” she whispers.

#  _Now_

They’d clicked instantly, in a way Adora never had with anyone else, before or since. Of course, that just made it more devastating when everything had fallen apart.

But Adora isn’t the kind of person to avoid her problems. She gives Swiftwind another good pet, and locates his dog food and bowl to give him his dinner. Then she puts her coat back on and trudges back to her dorm.

Glimmer is lying on her stomach on her bed, playing on a Switch when she gets back to their room. She looks up for a second when Adora enters, then quickly back down at her game, frowns, presses a couple buttons, and puts it down. “You left so fast after dinner! I didn’t have time to ask you all about—uh never mind you look tired you don’t have to tell me your life story or anything.”

Adora grimaces at the sight of her entire bed covered with her belongings. “Oh geez sorry about the mess, I was looking for something in my bag and it was kind of right in the middle. I’m not a messy person.”

Glimmer snorts. “_I_ am, so don’t worry about it. If it ever gets too bad just tell me to clean up. Sometimes I don’t notice that my stuff is all over the place.”

“It looks pretty good right now…” Adora says, raising her eyebrow.

“Well yeah, I cleaned up for you! First impressions are key! Although I guess I met you in the cafeteria anyway…” Glimmer sighs. “Oh well. So. Adora! Tell me about yourself! Other than your apparently godlike hockey skills, according to Bow.”

Adora starts putting away everything strewn across her bed. She asks, “What do you want to know?”

Uhhh, I dunno, what do you like to do? Why did you decide to go to the South Pole? How did you manage to bring a _dog_ to Amundsen-Scott?! You didn’t answer that one at dinner.

Adora furrows her brow. “Why is it such a big deal that I brought Swiftwind? I just like, asked the station manager if he could come with me,” she says, turning to face Glimmer while folding a shirt.

Glimmer looks stunned. “You just…asked??”

“Uh yeah, how does it normally work?”

“Adora there hasn’t been a dog here _ever_! Does this mean—nobody thought to _ask—_this is—“

“Huh, makes more sense why they didn’t have any dog accommodations set up already…” Adora muses, turning back to her unpacking.

Glimmer continues sputtering and muttering to herself, and after a minute whips out her phone. “I’m texting Bow! Wait, I’m going to tell him in person!” She leaps up and rushes out of the room, leaving Adora to finish unpacking in silence.

Finally putting the last socks in her drawers, Adora pauses. There’s one last thing that she brought with her sitting in her duffel but now…she doesn’t know…she finds her toothbrush and toothpaste and slippers and starts looking for the shared bathroom.

As she’s brushing her teeth, Adora stares into nothing and thinks. Tomorrow she has Field Training first thing in the morning, and it’s supposed to take all day. She might not have to see Catra again until dinner. She simultaneously wishes she could skip to tomorrow night right now, or freeze time forever. She finishes brushing, gathers her stuff, and glances in the mirror at her reflection, just for a second. Yeah, she does look five years older but that’s just life for you. Hopefully she’s five years wiser as well.

When Adora returns to her room, she goes straight to her bag and pulls out the last thing she brought. It’s the only decoration she brought with her, and she holds it gingerly in her hands before propping it up on her dresser. It’s a framed picture, of a younger Adora and Catra. They’re in their Etheria University hockey gear, obviously just after a game, (the biggest game of their lives) and they’re hoisting a trophy into the air together, each holding one of the handles. The photo captured them mid-laugh, and it seems like they’ll never stop smiling. That’s the way it had felt, too.

Adora lies awake in bed for a long time. But eventually the long day catches up to her and she falls into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And They Were ROOMMATES! Oh my god they were roommates. Folks, Adora is a lightweight and that's the honest truth. Alternate chapter title: In Which Adora Doesn't Handle Confrontation Well. Also, Swiftwind is her Service Dog, which is why she was allowed to bring him to the South Pole! Cuz our girl's got Anxiety lets go.  
Thanks for reading, comment or kudo if you enjoyed!


	3. First and fierce if I'm in sight

The next morning Adora tries to get ready for her day as quietly as possible. Field training starts at 8 AM sharp and Glimmer either starts her day later, or is the kind of person who sleeps until the last possible minute. Despite Adora’s best efforts at stealth, Glimmer turns over and blinks sleepily at her as she’s just about to leave. “Have fun hauling ice,” she mumbles, then tugs the blankets back over her head and goes back to sleep. Adora doesn’t know what that means. Maybe she said have fun hauling _ass? _She’ll find out soon.

The cafeteria is mostly empty, with only a few other people eating breakfast who Adora assumes will be joining her at training. Catra is sitting by herself at a table facing the door. Dammit. She thought she wouldn’t have to interact with her until tonight at the earliest. After their first disastrous attempt yesterday.

Once Adora has gotten her breakfast, she finds one of many empty tables and sits down alone. She doesn’t know anyone in the cafeteria well enough to inflict her pre-coffee self on. With the exception of…well. But Catra’s _very _off-limits. Even if they’ll be working together. She can’t believe they’ll be _working_ together. Hopefully she can minimize the time they have to spend together as much as possible.

Adora is insanely jealous of Glimmer’s location in her warm bed when she walks out of the station and is met by a blast of freezing air. It’s the beginning of the perpetual dawn that is Antarctica this time of year, and the sky is tinged pink in a narrow band across the horizon. The small group of recent arrivals head away from the main facilities, and after a few minutes they approach a tiny building on the outskirts of the station.

Two people, one tall and one shorter, wearing those ubiquitous red overcoats, wave at the small group of trainees. Adora’s mood lifts as she they get closer and she sees Scorpia’s good-natured smile. The woman next to her is the one who tripped and broke her cup last night. Perfuma, she remembers.

“Hey everybody, welcome to Field Training!” Scorpia calls out when they get closer. “I see some familiar faces, hey Catra, let’s catch up, but in my opinion you can never have too much practice reacting to emergency situations, right Perfuma?” She nudges her fellow leader and Perfuma nods vigorously. “And management makes you re-up your certs every two years so I know y’all wish you were sleeping in but I _guarantee_ you’ve forgotten stuff.” Scorpia says cheerfully.

Perfuma nods, “That’s right! Circle up and we’ll do names before we get started.” She gestures, and they obediently shuffle into a rough circle outside the little hut. The sky has gotten a little lighter, although Adora knows the sun will barely crest the horizon today. They’ll get several hours of sunrise and sunset, with very little actual sunshine. Full-time darkness won’t begin for at least another month.

Scorpia clears her throat and says, “Alright I’ll start off. Let’s do names, what you’re going to be doing here, and, hmm, what your favorite hobby is!” She smiles at everyone, “I’m Scorpia, and I’m one of your Training Instructors! Since you guys are our last training group this year, for the next few months Perfuma and I join the gear gurus. We repair all the gear that gets damaged or worn during the summer! So expect to see us all the time if you have to go out into the field!” Scorpia pauses and looks thoughtful. “Yeah…I think my favorite thing to do is drawing. I’m not very good at it but I’m getting better! I brought down a ton of drawing books this winter so if you want to borrow any just let me know!” Scorpia laughs a little and then nods to a nondescript sandy-haired guy next to her.

He begins his introduction, “Hi I’m Kyle, I’m on maintenence…”

Adora sneaks a glance at Catra out of the corner of her eye. Catra is focusing on Kyle, but Adora can see that one of her hands is unconsciously snapping and unsnapping her coat pocket. She feels an unexpected nostalgia in the familiarity of that habit. Catra always fiddled with things when she was bored or nervous. Adora got her one of those fidget cube things for her birthday one year, but she assumes that Catra has long-since purged every trace of her from her life…

Adora starts when Catra starts speaking. (She doesn’t think Catra saw her looking. She hopes not.) “Catra, ICL…” Catra trails off, and glances at Adora out of the corner of her eye for an instant, and ducks her head a little, seeming to brace herself. “My favorite thing to do is, um, baking.”

_Baking?? _Adora snorts, louder than she meant to, and Catra scowls and looks away. Whoops. But baking? Seriously? That’s so…domestic. The Catra she knew turned her nose up at anything even remotely feminine.

Adora suddenly realizes it’s almost her turn. Shit. Hobbies, hobbies…what does she do with her life, other than grad school? (And the local beer league but that doesn’t count…) Do the other people know who she is already? C’mon _think—_

“Adora?” Scorpia prompts cheerfully, interrupting her internal panicking.

“Sorry! Um. I’m Adora! This is my first time here and I’m working on the IceCube, and I like…my hobby, um,” she trips over her own words, heart beating too fast for no good reason, “I like hockey.” She rushes out, finally.

Scorpia leans forward. “Ooh! Watching or playing?”

“Uh, playing I guess. Mostly.” Adora blushes. So much for good introductions.

“Ok hear me out. You should teach me some tricks! I’m terrible.” Scorpia says excitedly, clasping her hands together, “You _have_ to be on our team, promise me right now!”

Confused, Adora says, “Uh, ok? A team for what—“

“After training!” Perfuma interrupts, leaving Adora wondering what she’s just volunteered to do.

Introductions continue. There’s Rogelio and Spinnerella and Netossa and…she can’t remember all these names, let alone their hobbies.

They finally get all the way back to Perfuma, who is standing next to Scorpia. “I’m Perfuma!” she says brightly. “I’m your Training Instructor as well, of course. My favorite hobby is knitting! If you ever want a hat, just let me know, I bring _bins_ of yarn down every year, in every color.” Perfuma looks around at the group, then glances at Scorpia, who has turned her full attention towards Perfuma and is frantically scribbling in a tiny notebook. Perfuma cocks one eyebrow at Scorpia, who stops. She turns back to the group. “Alrighty, let’s get started! Looks like we’ve got enough people for two groups, so let’s count off and split up. One!” She holds up her index finger.

Scorpia tucks her notebook away and enthusiastically asks, “Oh my gosh could you make me a hat? I have a super cool idea!” then, “Two!” and moves off to one side, although she looks like she wants to talk more with Perfuma about potential hat designs. “Twos over here!”

They divide into two groups. Adora sees with relief that Catra is in the other group. She’s a two, so she gathers with the other two’s with Scorpia a short distance from the other group. Scorpia bites her lip and looks longingly after Perfuma and back at her notebook, but turns her attention to her group after they’ve all come over.

Scorpia pulls out a clipboard “So, we’re going to learn how to build a snow shelter, in the event you get stranded out on the ice when a storm comes up. We usually use tents even when there are hurricane-force winds so I’m honestly not sure why we still do this. But you’ll be able to tell your friends back home you built a snow shelter!” She points at a diagram on the laminated page on her clipboard and describes how they’re going to build the shelters. “You don’t want your walls to be too thin, otherwise you risk a collapse. But too thick and you’ll spend all your time sawing blocks. You definitely want walls at least this thick,” she gestures, holding her hands apart, “and I’ll be helping you so I’ll let you know how you’re doing and make sure everyone stays safe! Ask as many questions as you want. This is a question-positive environment!”

Adora volunteers to saw the snow blocks, because she’s always sort of enjoyed monotonous physical labor, and she’s not sure she wants to have to make conversation with all these people. She’s sweating five minutes into it, and laughs to herself when she gets too hot for her overcoat. She’s _in Antarctica _and she’s too hot.

Adora focuses on sawing neat blocks with straight sides for the next few hours, giving them to Scorpia and Netossa, who carry the blocks towards the slowly rising igloo. It turns out, building a snow shelter is hard work_._ They take a break for lunch, their group of five squishing into their half-built snow shelter to eat pre-packed sandwiches. The sun throws their shadows out long and narrow, and Adora has the disorienting feeling that it’s evening, even though it must be closer to noon.

Scorpia is loud and boisterous and good at making conversation, gesturing with her hands while she tells a story about a penguin. She gets everyone laughing by the end, and Adora wishes that this whole feud thing wasn’t real. She thinks she and Scorpia would probably get along great.

After lunch, they are the first group to finish up their snow shelter (Despite Scorpia’s explanation, Adora doesn’t see how it’s different than an igloo) and spend a while taking pictures of each other inside it, peeking out of the doorway, posing with their shelter, and every other snow shelter-incorporating pose they can think of. Scorpia takes the pictures, and keeps yelling off-the-wall poses at them as she circles like a paparazzi photographer. “You’re selling the shelter on craigslist for $7! Ok now like you found the shelter in the middle of nowhere! Act shocked! Perfect! Ok group shot now!”

Perfuma comes over after they’ve really thoroughly documented the igloo. “Hey Scorpia, um, I think it’s time to wrap up with the igloos—“

“Snow Shelters,” Scorpia clamps her mitten over her mouth. “Oh whoops, sorry, shouldn’t have interrupted you.”

“You’re fine,” Perfuma smiles, “but we should start with the next exercise.”

“Yep!” Scorpia shoves back one sleeve and peers at her watch, “As usual, of course. Ok team, great job! Bring all the tools back to the Sea Hut.”

The whole group forms back up into a circle. Perfuma clasps her hands. “Who had fun building their snow shelter?” Everyone raises their hands, grinning. “Yeah it’s like, what’s that thing? Type 2 fun? I know I sure dreamed about building an igloo—whoops, sorry Scorpia, _snow shelter_ as a kid…” Perfuma looks at the igloos thoughtfully, then continues. “But seriously, it’s good to have this under your belt. Most of you will never have to use that skill. But you need to be prepared to deal with anything you might encounter on a field expedition, including the unpredictable. I hope you never find yourself in a situation where you need to build one of these, but if you do, it could save your life.” She looks around the circle, holding each person’s gaze for a moment.

“And that leads us into our next activity!” Scorpia says cheerfully. “You might’ve been wondering what we’re gonna use the Sea Hut for! Well, the time has come. You’ll be doing an activity that simulates what it’s like to navigate…_whiteout conditions_.” Most people bob their heads in understanding, and a couple people smile.

Perfuma ducks out of the circle to get something from the truck, and Adora raises her hand self-consciously. Apparently she’s the only stupid one here. “What are…” she wrinkles her nose, “whiteout conditions?”

Scorpia gives her a mittened thumbs-up. “Yes! Excellent question Adora! You guys should ask more questions! A whiteout is when we have a storm, and the wind stirs up ice crystals on the ground or falling from the sky. Any light is diffracted so much that visibility is reduced to only a few feet, and it’s hard to tell directions. It’s really dangerous, and that’s why we’ll be doing this next exercise.”

Perfuma comes back carrying a stack of white 5-gallon buckets several feet taller than her. Scorpia and Perfuma can’t contain their grins as Perfuma carefully sets the stack down, which makes no sense to Adora, given the serious topic they’re discussing. Then Perfuma turns the buckets around.

Everyone in the circle bursts out laughing. The buckets. Have. _Faces. _As Perfuma hands out buckets, Adora has the distinct feeling that their training instructors are playing a practical joke on them, but both Perfuma and Scorpia just smile and give each person a bucket with a ridiculous expression drawn on in sharpie. Some of them are grimacing, some have jack-o-lantern smiles, and the one Adora ends up with is laugh-crying. She glances around at her fellow trainees, who look alternately delighted and incredulous about their buckets. Catra rolls her eyes when Scorpia picks one out for her with a cat face drawn on. “Seriously Scorpia? Very funny.”

Perfuma hands the second to last bucket to Netossa, and turns the last one to see what it is. This one doesn’t have a face, but instead has an extremely detailed drawing of a penguin’s head. Perfuma looks at the bucket for a second, then considers Scorpia, who is making cat related puns about the whiskered face on Catra’s bucket and not paying attention to her. Adora can see the gears turning in Perfuma’s head, as their training instructor quietly shuffles around behind Scorpia, and raises the bucket over Scorpia’s head. Everyone in the group pauses momentarily in their conversations to watch. Then, in one smooth motion, Perfuma drops the penguin bucket onto Scorpia’s head and runs away, howling with laughter before diving into one of the snow shelters and out of sight.

Scorpia spins around, but of course she can’t see anything with a bucket on her head, and it just makes the penguin’s face wobble drunkenly. She tears off the bucket and looks around wildly, but Perfuma is well out of sight. However, she is distinctly _not _out of earshot, if the whooping laughter coming from the snow shelter is any indication. Scorpia grins and jogs to the source of the laughter, reaches in and grabs Perfuma by the ankles and drags her out. The other training instructor tries to stand up, but is laughing too hard and falls back onto her hands and knees. Scorpia chuckles and rolls her eyes fondly, then, quick as lightning, stuffs the penguin bucket onto Perfuma’s head.

This is too much for Perfuma, and she falls down even further onto her elbows, absolutely incapacitated with laughter.

Scorpia raps her knuckles on the bottom of the bucket. “Join us when you’ve gotten ahold of yourself, ok?”

Perfuma wheezes with laughter and gives a weak thumbs up.

Scorpia returns to the group. “Ok everyone into the Sea Hut!” Scorpia calls, “and get ready to use those buckets!”

Once they’ve all crammed inside the tiny building, Scorpia explains the activity. They will all start out in the hut, with a long length of rope. The scenario is that their teammate (Perfuma) went to the bathroom a while ago and hasn’t come back. They are going to try to locate her without getting lost themselves. Through the window, they see Perfuma wave cheerfully from outside, semi-recovered from her laughing fit. Scorpia explains that they will have to use teamwork to locate her, and briefly describes a couple useful methods for doing this kind of rescue. Then, she leaves them in the hut to come up with a plan.

A claustrophobic silence falls over the group. Nobody makes eye contact with each other. Adora feels her stomach clench with nerves. Looks like she’s going to have to lead this herself. She clears her throat, and everyone else looks at her, relieved that they didn’t have to be the one to say something. “So, uh, anyone done this before?”

A tall bald man who she vaguely remembers is named Rogelio, says in a deep voice, “Scorpia told the returners not to tell new people what to do…” he awkwardly sticks his hands into his coat pockets and tries to look apologetic.

“Okay, so raise your hand if this is your first time doing this training!” Adora says, raising her hand. The only other person to raise his hand is…Kyle. Perfect. “…Great, okay, so, Kyle do you have any ideas?” She asks, trying not to let the desperation inch into her voice.

All eyes turn towards Kyle, and he goes white as a sheet. “Well, um, I guess, I, uh…I actually don’t have any ideas?” his voice going up a full octave at the end.

Adora presses her lips tight together and uses every ounce of her people skills not to snap at Kyle that he’d _better come up with some_. Gotta make good impressions on the people she’ll be working with. She takes a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth. And then she’s _on._

“Ok, so here’s what I’m thinking. We go out in a single-file line, spaced at intervals of five feet, along the rope. We’ll walk along the wall of the hut, and then start a semicircular sweep back towards the other side, making a big arc. If something goes wrong, tug the rope once. If you find Perfuma, tug twice. When we find her, whoever did will tug the rope three times, and then the person closest to the hut will come back first and we’ll all follow. Any questions or suggestions?”

All the returners stare determinedly at nothing, determined to not give anything away that might clue Adora in on whether this was a colossally stupid idea or not. Except Catra, who looks straight into her eyes and cocks one eyebrow, as if to say, _this is the best you can do? _Kyle miserably ducks his head so far into his shoulders he could be a tortoise. Adora groans internally. Looks like they’ll live or die by her plan.

“Ok, who wants to be the first person out?”

Kyle scratches the back of his neck and says sheepishly, “Since you came up with the plan, why don’t you go first?”

Fucking perfect. Adora clenches her jaw in annoyance, and picks up the heavy coil of rope. “Everyone’s got their buckets?” Nods and shuffling as people prepare to don their weird blindfolds.

Adora knots the end of the rope so she doesn’t let it slip through her hands on accident. “Ok, every five feet, remember?” She opens the door and all the heat their bodies have generated crammed in here vanishes out into the cold in an instant. She pulls her mittens on and zips up her coat, then puts the bucket on and steps outside.

Instantly, her world is disorientingly echoey and muffled. She can just barely hear other people’s voices behind her, and she has no idea who steps outside after her, only feels the change in angle of the rope. She grips her rope tightly in one hand, and feels for the wall with the other. Her hand meets smooth metal and she starts the slow shuffle necessary to allow the people behind her to get out of the Sea Hut.

A dozen feet later, (she mentally recalibrates how far she’s gone when the wall disappears earlier than she was expecting) Adora starts walking blindly forward in what she hopes is a straight line in order to get the maximum reach of their arc.

Her boot catches on a slight drop and she stumbles for a moment. The person behind her says snidely, “Wow, your reflexes just _aren’t _what they used to be…”

Catra. Adora’s stomach knot tightens. This is _so_ not what she needs right now. “I don’t remember having to skate with my _eyes closed._” She growls. Her own voice echoes in her ears. It has a nasty bite to it. She shuffles forward more, taking care to pick up her feet more than before.

“I guess I could only really expect you to be able to stay upright on perfectly flat ice…should I ask Scorpia to get out a Zamboni?”

Adora opens her mouth to reply with an equally stinging comeback, when she’s dragged to a halt by the rope. Seems like the last person has made it out of the hut. She readjusts her grip on the rope, and turns to her right what she thinks is about 90 degrees. And even more slowly than before, starts shuffling in this new direction. Catra takes a moment to catch up, but slowly, they start their sweep.

Minutes later, Adora is trying in vain to push down the certainty that somewhere they’ve gone terribly awry. She has no sense of direction anymore, and it almost feels like they’ve curved in on themselves. It’s gnawing away at her. This is her plan. If they don’t find Perfuma, it will be on her shoulders alone. It’s only a simulation. It’s only practice, she tells herself, but her anxiety is spreading from her stomach to her chest. She has to distract herself. What had Catra said earlier in their intro circle?

Adora hisses, “Since _when_ is your favorite hobby baking?!” That ragged edge of panic in her voice is obvious in this stupid bucket, but maybe Catra won’t hear it. Where’s Swiftwind when she needs him?

_“_You don’t know what I like_, She-Ra. ”_ Catra hisses back, “accidentally” knocking into her from behind and making Adora stumble. “Speak for yourself. I haven’t exactly seen you on television lately. Do you just _imagine_ playing hockey or do you skate around with those old geezers thinking about your _glory days_?”

Adora growls under her breath. This is the last straw. She mutters, “Baking is a stupid hobby. It’s for girls.” It’s a weak comeback.

“Oh yeah? Well I _am a girl_ and anyway fuck gender stereotypes. Shut the hell up.” Catra growls back. “I like baking, why do you fucking _care _what I do!? Try _this _on for weak!” And she shoves Adora so hard she falls onto her knees and has to let go of the rope to catch herself.

Pain bursts in Adora’s kneecaps. She feels around for the rope on the ground, but she can’t find it anywhere. She wouldn’t put it past Catra to have pulled it away from her out of spite. Shit. “Catra?” She calls. She stands up and holds her arms outstretched, slowly spinning in a circle, but it turns out five feet apart means Catra isn’t within touching distance. “Catra?” Her hands meet nothing but air.

No answer.

Catra’s really going to screw up their entire mission out of spite. Nobody else along the rope will be able to hear her with their buckets, so she’s is the only one who can “rescue” Adora. (This is such a stupid exercise.) “Do you _want _to fail the exercise_?” _She growls. Nothing. Dammit. And now she’s completely disoriented from the spinning, if she wasn’t already. She has no idea what direction the group is in, but she gets back on her knees and starts feeling around the ground for the rope.

After a long moment, she hears the sound of the rope being thrown in her direction. She feels around again and, _yes!_ It’s here. She grabs it and gets to her feet, then hesitates. Which way did they come from? Which way is Perfuma? She feels the direction the rope is coming from and sets off in what she thinks is the opposite direction, pulling the line of people with her. Catra doesn’t say anything else.

A few minutes later her outstretched hand hits something solid. But it’s not Perfuma, it’s a truck that she _knows_ was in the opposite direction from Perfuma. They’ll have to start from the beginning again. But she didn’t tell them a signal to use in this scenario…which means she didn’t think of everything. Which means she _failed._

Miserably, Adora turns away from the truck. “We got turned around and didn’t do a full sweep. We have to start over.”

She can just picture Catra rolling her eyes. She hears a muffled response, “Ugh.” Then faintly she hears Catra telling Spinnerella the same thing, behind her, and she assumes the message gets passed all the way down the line. But as she starts to lead the way back along the line of people, feeling along the rope, Scorpia calls out, “_Time!”_

Adora’s stomach sinks. She’s failed. She drops the rope and slowly takes off her bucket and sees her fellow trainees doing the same. She sees now that their search line snakes out from the hut and somehow practically doubles back on itself in completely the wrong direction, before meandering towards the truck. She spots Perfuma cheerfully waving at the group from a chair a hundred feet away. Perfuma jogs back to the group.

Scorpia says, “Alrighty, stack your buckets and let’s meet inside for a debrief!”

Adora overhears her mutter to Perfuma, “I love that we call them debriefs. Makes it seem like we’re secret agents! You’re like, the hostage or something.”

Perfuma grins and says in a low voice, “Yeah, it makes it so fun! Although in real life I could totally escape by myself.”

“I believe you! You’re so good at everything, you would get out, noooo problem. Ok!” Scorpia turns back to the group, “get inside before we all freeze our faces off!”

They cram themselves back into the Sea Hut, which is made significantly more cramped by the addition of two tall training instructors. Scorpia asks the group, “So, what did you think? Who has some observations about the exercise? What did you do well? What could you have done differently?”

Netossa says, “I thought our plan had the right idea in how we decided to try again after we hadn’t found Perfuma.”

“The idea of a sweep was a lot better than just picking a random direction,” says Lonnie.

“But we didn’t find Perfuma,” Catra says acidly, “if this was real she’d be dead.”

They’re all quiet for a moment. Then Perfuma says with clearly fake positivity, “But it was just a training exercise, and I’m A-okay!” She turns serious, “This is going to be helpful for if you ever actually have to do this, although I really hope you don’t. And in real life, you wouldn’t stop after fifteen minutes. Missing a few fingers and toes is better than dying, so keep looking as long as you can!”

Scorpia side-hugs Perfuma. “And I sure am glad you’re not frozen to death! So, you weren’t meant to get this perfect the first time. Most people here have done this more than once!” She addresses Adora directly, “The winter crew is more experienced, and when we get a group who’ve all done this before, we have a conversation on more complicated search-and-rescue techniques. But having a training with new people reminds us just how much we’ve learned, and gets us thinking about how to teach better next time!”

Despite the kind words, every comment just makes Adora feel smaller. It was _her _plan. All the criticisms are _her fault_. She crosses her arms and says miserably, “We could have tried different things when we weren’t able to find Perfuma in a few minutes. I’m sorry, I—“ she finds herself looking at Catra. Dammit. “I lost my focus. Finding a lost member of the party should have taken absolute priority. And I should have figured out we were going in the wrong direction. I’m sorry.” Catra presses her lips together. Adora stares into her lap dejectedly.

Scorpia says, “Hey now! The sweep idea was a solid one! It’s really hard to stay oriented with the buckets. I’ll let you guys know, only about a quarter of groups actually find the stranded person in this exercise, so don’t be too hard on yourselves, even when everyone’s done it before.” She stands up from the desk she’s been perched on. “Well, that’s all we have for ya today. Thanks for coming everyone! Can I get a couple volunteers to help clean up?”

Adora raises her hand immediately. She’s the reason they failed the exercise; she should clean up. Scorpia and Perfuma are just too nice to say so. The least she can do is help them put everything away.

She’s the only volunteer, and the rest of the group heads back for dinner, which is in half an hour. Adora stacks buckets and coils the ropes and helps load everything into the truck, and all she can think about is what Scorpia said. If only a quarter of groups succeed in finding a person only a hundred meters away from the hut…what are the chances if someone actually goes missing?

Finally, everything is ready to be driven back to the station, and it’s a good thing too. The twilight has deepened to such an extent that Adora has to strain her eyes to make out the shapes of their snow shelters. Perfuma asks, “Do you want a ride back to the station? It’s pretty dark now.”

Adora nods gratefully, and climbs into the cab next to Scorpia. Scorpia resumes her conversation with Perfuma as the engine roars to life, “…and so maybe it would be cool to have a red theme? It’s my favorite color and all our stuff is already red so it would match! Did you bring different colors of red? Also it’s my favorite color, did I say that already? First, ok you’re going to _love _this, I was thinking it would be cool to have like, scorpions on it, like my name, you know? But now I’m thinking, what if it’s something that’s part of our jobs, like Entrapta’s hat! Do you think you could knit some snow shovels, or maybe some trucks on there?”

Perfuma looks thoughtful as she puts the truck in gear and starts driving. “I bet I can knit something up like that. Let me make a mock-up in my knitting program and I’ll show you.” She says, “and you know, I could do scorpions and igloos if you want.”

Scorpia nods earnestly. “Yes! Wow, you just get me Perfuma. Scorpions and igloos are so cool! Scorpions live in the desert, this is a freezing ice desert, we teach people about igloos…” she grins at Perfuma, and Perfuma glances quickly back, although she keeps her eyes on the road. “I’m super excited. I’ve never been knit a custom hat before!” Scorpia says, and leans her head back against the headrest. “Geez I’m tired.” She yawns.

Adora protests, “You weren’t the one who dug an entire igloo of ice blocks!”

Scorpia closes her eyes wearily. “Yeah but I had to teach you all how to survive in this frozen wasteland. That’s almost as hard as doing the actual building.”

Perfuma laughs under her breath, “It’s _emotionally_ exhausting.”

Adora thinks if anyone has, _she’s_ had an emotionally taxing day. But that’s not Scorpia and Perfuma’s business, so she leans back and closes her eyes.

A couple minutes later they pull into one of the unloading docks, and Adora helps the two instructors unload all the gear. Then the three of them head to the cafeteria for dinner. As soon as they get out of the vehicle bay area, Scorpia slows down and Perfuma speeds up, so that by the time she and Perfuma get to the cafeteria door, Scorpia is just rounding the corner of the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Which: Adora feels insecure and Lashes Out. Also I'd like to thank Rae Geiger for my life and for posting all those wonderful [Scorpfuma](https://twitter.com/raegeii/status/1199438676356259841) [fanarts](https://twitter.com/mmmjoos/status/1193386190843629568) on their twitter. I've been shipping them since S2 babeeeey!!  
Also, the silly face buckets-on-heads white out exercise is a real thing they do during trainings (at McMurdo)! If you want to come talk to me about She-Ra or this fic I'm on [tumblr](https://herothehardway.tumblr.com/)! Thank you for reading, drop a comment or kudo if you enjoyed! I've been loving reading comments <3


	4. Shun the light

To Adora’s relief, Catra has come and gone from the cafeteria when she arrives for dinner. She gets her food (mouth-wateringly good lasagna), spots Glimmer and Bow sitting in one corner, and heads toward them. She collapses into her chair. “Is there anywhere to just, I don’t know, relax around here? I’m so sore.”

Bow brightens immediately. “Oh man, sounds like you need a good sauna.” He stretches his arms over his head. “We had to go out and drill a new core today and I think my internal organs still have ice on them. So I’d be game to sauna after dinner. Glimmer?”

Glimmer’s forehead is pressed onto the table, eyes closed. She looks about how Adora feels. “_Please_. I’ve had the worst day _imaginable_.”

Bow laughs, “Worse than that time the drill got stuck halfway up and we had to work on it for seven hours?”

“Ok that was definitely worse.” Glimmer grimaces.

Adora smiles sleepily and gives a lethargic thumbs up. “Yeah a sauna sounds amazing.”

It turns out that the dorm wing has a sauna on the first floor, right down the hall from Glimmer and Adora’s room. After dinner, she and Glimmer wrap themselves in towels and flip flops and shuffle to the windowless wooden door that is the universal sign for sauna.

Bow is already there, lying on his towel, eyes closed, with a bottle of water next to him, but when they walk in he perks up. “Finally, I was getting bored by myself.”

Glimmer pours a cup of water on the rocks and sighs contentedly as they sizzle and the humidity skyrockets. “It’s been _way_ too long since we’ve done this.” She says, laying her towel out and sinking back against the wall with such a complete lack of modesty Adora blinks. Glimmer notices her moment of hesitation. “C’mon, no need to be shy you ripped hockey goddess. Trust me. By the end of the winter you’ll have seen way more of every person here than you ever wanted to.”

Bow groans and mumbles, “so many pasty asses…they haunt me…”

Laughing, Adora spreads her towel out and leans against the wall next to Glimmer. She can already feel the sweat forming on her temples. “God I haven’t saunaed since…dang I guess my National team days,” she says, letting her eyelids drift closed. “Can we make this a thing?”

Bow says, “Trust me, it’s already a thing.”

“Thank god. Cutting ice really does you in, huh.” Adora mumbles, and Bow and Glimmer _hmm_ in agreement.

A contented silence settles over them. The heat feels so good, seeping into the tips of Adora’s fingers and toes, and then slowly sinking down into her bones. She lets out a long sigh and slouches further against the cedar wood.

After a while, when her back is sweaty enough to stick to the wood, Adora notices that Glimmer is studying her out of the corner of her eye. Adora adjusts her head slightly so she can look back. “What?”

Glimmer bites her lip.

“_What?”_

“What’s the story with you and Catra?” Glimmer blurts.

Adora’s heart stutters. “Um, uh, wha—what do you mean?”

Bow turns his head to face her. “Ok don’t try to get out of it, I can smell bullshit from a mile away. There’s _no way_ you guys are just casual acquaintances from college.”

Adora closes her eyes. Lets out a long sigh. “…We were close.” She mumbles.

Glimmer and Bow exchange a glance, and Adora braces herself for an interrogation. Relief washes through her when Bow says, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. You just seemed stressed…and that’s an open offer. If you do want to sometime.”

The tension in Adora’s shoulders seeps away and she readjusts to lie down on the bench. It’s only been a couple days. She just met Bow and Glimmer, but six months is plenty of time to get to know them. Right now all she wants is to melt into the floor.

(Afterwards, she cuddles with Swiftwind and attempts to work on her dissertation until it’s time for bed.)

##  _March, Freshman Year_

The third period of quarterfinals is about to start, and Adora is sitting on the bench in the locker room, staring at the floor. They’ve been playing well, but the other team is matching them play for play, and their top line is getting tired. Passes aren’t completed, the puck bounces off the goal again and again, and instead of dialing it in, their best forwards just wind themselves up more, taking every mistake personally. This is the furthest Etheria has gotten in the playoffs in several years, and none of the players on the team have any experience with crowds this size or pressure this high. Right before the end of the second period, they’d let a goal in, and now the other team is up.

Etheria’s coach stands in front of the team, staring at her clipboard and tapping her pen against it in frustration. She suddenly gestures to Adora, then Catra with the pen. “Sherman. Romero. I’m putting you on a line with Whip.”

Adora jerks her head up. “Wh—wait, really?” She feels Catra practically vibrating with excitement next to her. Whip is one of their best seniors.

Coach comes over to them and pinches the bridge of her nose, says in a low voice, “You two are playing well right now, and Simmons is falling apart. You have fresh legs, time to use them.”

Stunned, Adora hurries to buckle her helmet and grab her stick. Catra holds out a fist and she bumps it, seeing her nervous excitement reflected in Catra’s expression. When it’s time to head back out, Catra and Adora are out on the ice with Whip.

The buzzer sounds.

Adora’s world narrows. The crowd is gone. The score doesn’t matter. It’s just her and the ice and the puck and four other people with the same goals and nothing is important except this.

It’s the  _ shikkkk  _ of blades on ice, the clack of sticks against sticks and skates, the thunk of the puck hitting the boards, the shouts of her teammates.

She’s playing good, but not  _ great _ . Not what they need to win. The second time she lets the puck out of her possession, Catra calls over the noise of the game, “Adora! C’mon, we’re playing  _ our _ game!”

Catra’s right, like she always is when it comes to hockey. Adora’s been thinking too much. But she and Catra coordinate best when she lets go of analyzing everything and just,  _ plays. _ She takes a deep breath, and races after the puck.

Adora lets her muscle memory take over, and now? Now she’s on fire. She can almost  _ feel _ where the puck is going next, where her teammates are going to pass. Catra shoots the puck forward to her and she attacks it, but another pass is intercepted and they lose possession.

She and Catra are synched up now, but they’re not quite meshed with their other teammates. Catra and Adora aren’t used to playing with Whip. Slowly though, she feels them clicking a little better with her. Filling into the right positions. Muscles remembering plays they’ve practiced together. Finding each other on the ice, sending the puck to just the right places.

Adora gets lucky with an assist and now they’re tied.

The other team is on the offensive now, but they manage to keep ahold of the tie. 

The clock is ticking. Adora’s quads and glutes are burning. It’s looking more and more like they’ll have to go into overtime, but she  _ knows  _ they can do this. She turns the puck over in a moment of fatigue-induced sloppiness, but her second of panic fades to calm as she sees Catra behind her, facing down the girl she turned it over to with a steady, laser focus and riding her off the puck.

And then, somehow, Catra is poking the puck ahead to Adora, and it’son her stick and there’s an opening. So she shoots. It sails just past the goalie’s mitt into the goal.

The buzzer sounds.

They’ve won.

Adora is just coming out of whatever trance she’s been in since the period started when Catra barrels into her, wrapping her in a hug. Pressing their helmets together and shouting, “We did it! Adora! We won!”

And Adora hugs her back, and then the whole team is one big hug, with her and Catra at the center of it, and now she can dimly hear the home crowd chanting.

_ “She-Ra! She-Ra! She-Ra!” _

It’s the first, but far from the last, time they will chant her name.

Adora doesn’t really mind so much when they get knocked out in the next round. They’re only freshmen, and she knows that Coach will be putting her and Catra a lot higher in the rotation next year if their performance in the playoffs is any indicator. They play better together, and they make the  _ team  _ play better, it’s as simple as that. And even though she’s only known Catra for a few months, Adora is confident that they’ll only get more drift compatible. Catra makes her feel grounded, tethered. She feels like home, and Adora hasn’t felt like that in a really long time.

The mood on the bus ride back to Etheria isn’t elated, exactly, because it’s never fun to lose. But by the time they roll back onto campus, everything is in motion to have a blowout end of season party. Because they  _ did _ get farther than Etheria ever has. And every single person on the team is proud of that.

A bunch of the upperclassmen girls live together off-campus, and the house party is loud and rambunctious and spills out into the yard and the street. (Adora is shocked the cops haven’t shut them down yet.)

Adora and Catra stumble outside together to take a breather and cool off from the sweltering heat of too many bodies in a small space. Someone’s started a campfire in the backyard, but a fine misty rain is starting to fall and nobody is out here at the moment.

Adora finds a small pile of wood under the eves and grabs a log to put on the fire, then sits on one of the wobbly wooden benches poking at the glowing coals with a stick. Catra sits next to her. The pulsing of the music is muffled from out here, and the embers of the fire shift with heat.

“I’m proud of us.” Adora says after a minute.

Catra grins, “You killed it during that game!”

“What are you talking about, it was  _ you _ who kept them from getting anywhere near our goal!” Adora knocks Catra’s shoulder, “I wish I was half as fast as you on the backcheck!”

Catra giggles, “Shut up!” She’s blushing faintly though, so Adora thinks her praise hit the mark.

Adora quickly turns her attention back to the fire. After some more vigorous poking, a flame licks up the side of the log she’d added, and soon the dim glow of coals has transformed into a bright, merry fire. Adora gets up, grabs another log and adds it to the fire, and soon she can feel the heat without having to lean forward on her knees.

The backdoor opens, and Whip and their goalie JD traipse down the stairs and over to the fire. Whip has a bottle of something other than shitty beer in her hand.

Adora eyes it, “Is there a secret stash of better alcohol somewhere?”

Whip grins and toasts the fire. “Nope. Brought it with me.” She takes an appreciative swig, “That’s my tip for y’all. If you bring your own booze, you can opt  _ in _ to the PBR. If you want. And if you don’t want…” She takes another drink and offers it to them, and Catra takes it.

Catra turns to her, “Adora. We are bringing our own drinks next time.” She picks up her beer can, wrinkles her nose in disgust, and pours it out on the grass.

“Hey!” Adora protests, “You’re wasting it!”

“Oh my  _ god _ Adora, it tastes like piss. You cannot convince me you actually  _ like _ it.”

“I do!” They’ve bickered about this on multiple previous occasions. Catra will force herself to drink the beer if it’s all that there is, but she won’t touch it if there’s literally anything else. Adora, on the other hand, doesn’t really mind it. It’s not good, sure, but it’s not bad either. And she figures it’s better for her bank account if she actually  _ likes _ the cheapest alcohol you can get.

“Soooo…” JD interrupts before they can really get into the merits of cheap beer, “You two were looking pret-ty good during playoffs.” She sits down and leans the chair back on two legs (Adora is slightly concerned, it doesn’t look very structurally sound). She nods at Adora, “Bet Coach will move you up to first line next year.”

“Me? I dunno, I guess maybe. But she’s  _ definitely _ moving Catra up.” She looks over to Catra, who is fiddling with her now-empty can, “She was a powerhouse, flying all over the ice like that! You know I never worry when I lose the puck? I’m just like, Catra will get it back for us. Probably get a breakaway on the way back, too.” She’s sort of talking to JD, but really, she’s telling Catra. Because Catra is praiseworthy, and she doesn’t understand why nobody else seems to notice.

Catra ducks her head. She can never take a compliment when there are other people around. She mutters, “Thanks.”

Whip raises an eyebrow, eyes flicking between Adora and Catra. And maybe Adora put just a little too much earnestness into her words, because she can almost see the wheels turning in Whip’s head, even if they’re coming to the completely wrong conclusion.

Catra seems to notice too. She stands up quickly, tosses her can over her shoulder casually, and says, “C’mon Adora, this party is  _ boring _ . Let’s go home before someone calls the cops.”

Adora doesn’t point out the contradiction. But it’s late, and she’s tipsy and tired, and walking back to their dorm with Catra sounds cold and damp but her bed sounds like the best thing she can imagine. “Yeah, ok, let’s go.” She’s being kind of rude to Whip and JD. She tries to turn back to them, and says, “Have. Um. Have a good rest of the party,” as Catra practically drags her to the gate to the front of the house. “Bye!” she calls over her shoulder.

JD and Whip wave after them. God she’s so fucking awkward.

“God, you’re so fucking awkward.” Catra teases.

Adora groans.

Sophomore housing applications come out almost immediately after their season ends, and Adora doesn’t even have to ask Catra. They immediately start planning which dorm will be the best for both of them, and then the paperwork is submitted and it’s settled. They’re living together next year.

##  _Now_

_Vvvvvvt vvvvvvt vvvvvvt—_

Adora slams her hand down on her phone to stop it buzzing, and it falls off the dresser onto the floor with a clatter. She blearily sits up, and glances over to Glimmer. 

All she can see of her roommate is a tuft of pink hair peeking out from her blankets, but then Glimmer shifts, and sits up. She rubs her eyes and yawns, then shuffles out of bed and to the sink.

Adora mumbles, “Not a morning person, huh?”

“Whyyyy do we have to get up?” Glimmer grumbles, and lethargically picks up her toothpaste.

Adora would also rather go back to bed, but today she’s getting a tour of the Ice Cube facilities…led by the one and only Catra Romero. This is really her life now.

An hour later she’s wandering around one wing of the station, trying and failing to locate Room 132. She’s not sure it exists at this point. Maybe Catra told her the wrong room as a mean practical joke? She wouldn’t be surprised.

Adora is peering in the window of Room 127 when she hears familiar footsteps in the hallway.

“Hey Catra,” she says, not turning around. Room 127 has some very complicated looking instruments lying on long tables. From what Adora can see in the dimly lit room, it looks like some kind of chemistry lab.

Catra huffs behind her, and Adora finally turns around. Her research partner is standing with her arms crossed, looking annoyed.

“Do you actually _want_ to see the ICL? Because I can definitely go back to bed if all you’re going to do is waste my time.”

“I was, uh, familiarizing myself with the nearby facilities. Who works in here?”

Catra rolls her eyes and turns back the way she’d come. “Shimmer and the ice core team. Lab’s this way.”

“Glimmer.”

“Don’t care.”

Adora grits her teeth and speedwalks to catch up with Catra. They take a right, and then go through an un-numbered door into a short hallway with a few other doors. And here is Room 132, according to the plaque. There’s a National Geographic poster about the ICL taped to the door. Adora almost snipes at Catra that she had given instructions that were plain wrong, but holds herself back at the last second. She…crossed a line yesterday. Clearly. And even if she hadn’t exactly meant to cut as deep as she had, she’d _wanted_ to. Hurt Catra. Just a little. That’s not an acceptable way to treat her lab partner.

Catra pulls out a key ring with a dozen color coded keys and her fingers sort through them quickly and efficiently to select one with a red rubber bumper around it, and insert it into the keyhole.

She turns to Adora, and gestures in an _after you_ motion. “This is the in-station lab. It’s basically a Harry Potter cupboard. We work here when the weather is too bad to go to the ICL.”

Adora glances at Catra, and hesitantly pushes the door open.

The room _is _tiny. There’s just enough room for a couple desks, and filing cabinets. There are a few computer monitors sitting on the desks, screensavers washing the room with a greenish glow. A quick glance tells her that each screensaver is a different lushly green landscape photo.

Catra clears her throat, “Anyway this place sucks but we might have to work here if there are really bad storms or crazy low temperatures. If you want to keep working outside of normal working hours you can come here. Not the point of the tour.” She shoos Adora out of the room and locks it again, then fiddles with her keychain and hands her a second key with a red bumper.

They walk across the station quietly. Adora’s urge to make conversation is in direct conflict with how awkward she feels. Her shoulders are so tense they’re starting to ache, but this is better than whatever she can think of to say, so she resists breaking the silence.

She follows Catra to the wing she’d arrived at the first night, where two of the hulking trucks are parked in each loading bay. Feet stick out from under the closest one. Catra saunters up (there’s no other way to describe that walk), leans one hip against the front bumper, and raps her knuckles against the truck. “Hey. Sea Hawk. Wanna take us out to the ICL?”

Sea Hawk rolls out from under the truck on a dolly, and groans as he sits up. He peers up at Catra, “Dr. Brightmoon’s not gonna like that, you know. Where’s _your _driver?”

“Whatever, she doesn't have to know if you don’t tell her.”

“True…it’s just, I _really_—“

“Look. I’ll casually drop what an _amazing_ person you are within earshot of Mermista if you take us,” Catra says sweetly, casually. Adora can’t help but admire the way that she’s spinning this interaction out. Catra knows the thing Sea Hawk clearly cares about the most, and _pounces_.

Sea Hawk brightens visibly, but strokes his chin, pretending to think about it. “Well when you put it like that…I’d be happy to take you two there! Let me just grab the keys.” Sea Hawk stands and grimaces as he cracks his back, before trotting over to a toolbench and shouldering on his coat. “I see you didn’t bring your coats. That’s alright, I have a couple extra!”

Adora and Catra catch the coats tossed at them and slip them on as Sea Hawk hops up into the driver’s seat and the truck roars to life. Adora climbs in the passenger door and scoots to the center of the bench, Catra following behind her. To Adora’s relief, Catra slouches against the passenger door, as far away as possible from her.

It’s a comically short drive to the IceCube Lab, although the biting wind that fills the cab as soon as Catra opens the passenger door makes Adora appreciate the heated truck. The building rises up out of the ice in front of the truck on ten-foot struts, like a strange water bug trapped on the surface of a frozen pond. There are exterior walkways and stairs going between floors, and the sun glints off the shiny metallic walls. It looks complex and advanced, which Adora hadn’t been expecting. In her experience, Astronomy labs tend to be at least a couple decades old and held together with duct-tape and determination.

Sea Hawk tosses Catra a walkie-talkie, “Gimme a call when you need me to come back. Just don’t stay out here past 7, or I’m leaving you here for the night no matter _what_ you say to Mermista.”

Ice crystals blow into Adora’s face as she hurries up two flights of stairs after Catra. She huddles closer to her than she’d like on the landing as Catra swipes her badge and the door beep unlocked.

They take their coats off in a small entry hall, and Adora stomps her boots to get the snow out of the treads. 

Catra flips on the light switch, and the IceCube Lab is illuminated. _This _looks more familiar. The interior of the ICL has that slightly shabby look that seems to be characteristic of Astro labs everywhere (probably because every dollar goes into equipment). In one corner there’s a clear sphere about the size of a basketball, with a nest of electronics inside, suspended from several wires. That’s one of the Digital Optical Modules, also known as DOM’s, that are used to detect neutrinos in the IceCube itself. There’s a small counter to her left with a sink, a drip coffeemaker, and assorted mugs upside-down on a hand towel, next to a refrigerator.

Catra sees her looking. “Yeah, we have coffee, creamer, sugar, whatever...make sure to wash your cup so I don’t have to clean up after you all the time.”

“I can clean up after myself.” Adora says.

Carr’s snorts, “Four years says otherwise but whatever you say…” Before Adora can respond, Catra continues, “Upstairs is where the actual lab is. _Don’t_ touch anything until I’ve explained it to you.”

If there’s one thing Adora hates more than anything, it’s feeling like she’s being controlled. Which Catra knows. She takes a deep breath and says, “Sure, I won’t mess with anything.”

She sees Catra’s eyes flick over to her for the briefest moment, like she was expecting Adora to argue. There’s no _way_ Adora is screwing up on her first real day here, even if they can’t exactly ask her to leave.

Up on the second floor, they go into a room with computers lining two walls. Catra says, “And this is where the magic happens…or the science I guess…_Don’t_ touch anything!” She snaps when Adora takes a step into the room.

“I wasn’t _going_ to.” Adora says, annoyed. “Am I allowed to set foot in this room, ma’am?” She refuses to be treated like a child.

Catra crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. “You looked like you were going to—“

“I wasn’t,” Adora interrupts, annoyed.

“I _know you,_ you were definitely thinking—“

“You don’t know anything about me!” Adora snaps, “so stop acting like you do! You haven’t known me for five years, _Catra.” _She’s all of a sudden furious (Stop overreacting) even though Catra has only needled her a little. Is she supposed to pretend like this is even slightly normal?

Catra clenches her jaw and glares at Adora. “Fine, if you want to do this? Then _that’s_ what we’ll do.”

“_Fine,” _hisses Adora, “Not like you even care about this anyway.”

“Are you _kidding me?_” Catra sputters, “oh that’s hilarious, good one. But fine. _Fine. _We’ll do this your way.” She presses her lips together into a line, then grabs the back of a Rollie chair and throws her body into it with so much force, she rolls all the way down the banks of computers until she comes to a halt in front of the last one. “I’m going to walk you through some basic operations.” She’s clenching her jaw, if the tendons on her neck are anything to go by. “I printed out a procedure outline, here. I’m not going to waste my time doing this again, so I dunno, take notes or something.” She points at a stack of paper by the door without looking at Adora.

Adora pulls up a second chair and stiffly sits down. She was _trying _to keep her cool. Catra’s getting in her head without even trying_, _and she’s literally biting her tongue to avoid saying something she knows would rile Catra up even more.

“Hello? Earth to Adora?” Catra says, and Adora snaps to attention. 

Shit, what had she been saying? “Uh, yeah, the network connectivity is, um…” Her face is hot with embarrassment, “…could you repeat that last part? Sorry.”

Catra tsk’s. “You made it this far through grad school with that attention span? I’ll repeat; we connect to the station network using this application,” she clicks on an icon, and Adora scrambles to scribble down some notes. She pays strict attention the rest of the tutorial. Catra explains everything in excruciating detail, while very obviously never turning her head more than a hair towards Adora.

It’s been at least twenty minutes, Adora’s page is covered in annotations of the operation procedure, and her brain feels like a sieve. She’s going to have to go over all of this again after dinner, or tomorrow. 

A few minutes later she wraps up and leads Adora on an even more dry and technical tour of the rest of the lab. She doesn’t joke around, or try to mess with Adora. She doesn’t even look at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petty petty petty! And another taste of the college days. Thank you for reading y'all! Now we're getting going!


	5. Sunlight (sunlight)

So this is how her days go. She wakes up early, bundles into her huge overcoat and takes care of Swiftwind before Glimmer wakes up. When she gets back to their room, she wakes Glimmer up and they get ready for the day and meet Bow at breakfast. Most of the time, the three of them drink their coffee and eat quietly, not awake enough to make conversation. Then they walk together to the research wing, and head their separate ways.

Adora usually gets Sea Hawk to drive her to ICL (despite his many protestations, he obviously likes getting to drive) and gets to work. Catra is always in the lab when she gets there, working on one of the computers. Adora checks on any programs she ran overnight, then reads the daily computer-generated ICL status report. The various teams back in the US who are using the data have noticed weird residuals that they’ve had trouble isolating, making it difficult to distinguish what is actual neutrino activity, and what’s glitches in the system. It’s Catra and Adora’s job this winter to figure out the source of the problem, and hopefully either fix it or come up with a plan for the summer crew to implement if the two of them don’t have the equipment (or weather).

They haven’t had any luck so far. Adora spends every day trying to come up with different ways to measure the same things, different ways of plotting, transformations of the data, and writing some code to add the outputs to her daily status report.

Adora assumes Catra is doing the same. At least that’s what it looks like whenever she peeks at Catra’s screen when she is out of the room taking a coffee break (It’s a big no-no to bring anything except water into the computer lab itself. Too many expensive computers). But Catra hasn’t told her anything about it. They only ever exchange pleasantries. “Morning” when Adora arrives. “I’m getting lunch” a few hours later. “Have a good night.” at the end of the day. She wishes they could work together, so they can get more done, but that’s not an option.

Every day they work in silence for seven hours, and then Catra leaves. That last hour of the day is the only time Adora really feels like the lab is _hers_, and so far she’s spent it exploring the lab, and going through the technical notes on how the IceCube works with a fine-tooth comb. Even though it’s stupid to think, she doesn’t want Catra to see her doing that. It would be admitting that she has no fucking clue what’s causing the data anomalies.

Then she leaves for dinner, and meets up with Bow and Glimmer again. This is her favorite part of the day. They talk about their days, and gossip about everyone else at the station. Adora usually works out in the small gym, and then plays with Swiftwind in his doggy-dome until he’s tired. Sometimes she switches it up if the silence and unvoiced animosity in the ICL gets too oppressive, and she’ll gather up a stack of technical manuals and do her reading in there for the afternoon, Swiftwind curled up at her side.

She brings Swiftwind to the ICL with her a few times. She tells Catra that it’s so he can get a change of scenery, but really she’s just trying to make the lab feel even marginally more inviting, what with the glacial welcome she gets from Catra every day. She can tell Catra doesn’t like him being there but she hasn’t actually said anything about it so far. And it’s nice to feel her dog curled up on her feet when she’s working. At least _someone_ enjoys Adora’s company, even if that someone is a dog.

* * *

Three weeks after Adora arrived, she and Bow are eating dinner at their table.

“Bow. Mermista was only sitting one table away from Sea Hawk this morning at breakfast.” Glimmer says as she plops down at their table.

Bow rolls his eyes, “C’mon, this is not evidence. Let me know when anything _actually noteworthy_ happens.”

Adora raises an eyebrow, “You have to admit though, this _is _the first time she’s sat that close to him…”

Glimmer nods excitedly, “Exactly! At the beginning of the season, she sat a minimum of 4 tables away from him at all times! That gap has been steadily shrinking and today it’s almost gone! It’s significant, I’m positive.”

“Ok ok, like I said. Bring me concrete evidence and I’m onboard,” Bow says, leaning his chair back on two legs and crossing his arms. He scans the room slowly until they settle on Scorpia, who is animatedly telling a story to Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio across the cafeteria. “Huh do you think Scorpia’s gotten over her thing for Catra?”

Adora’s stomach, inexplicably, drops to her toes and she freezes with her fork halfway to her mouth. She quickly recovers and hopes Glimmer and Bow don’t notice. “Uh—“ she swallows, “Catra and Scorpia are—were…a thing?”

Glimmer, apparently not noticing Adora’s sudden lack of chill, looks thoughtful while bouncing her spoon against her nose. “Well that’s the tricky part. Did _they_ have a thing? I dunno. Possibly? Scorpia was definitely crushing hard, and Catra seemed to put up with it as much as she puts up with anyone. And they were _very _friendly last season, if you know what I mean. But Scorpia hasn’t seemed quite as attached at the hip this year. See, she’s sitting with other people,” she gestures at Scorpia’s dinner group, “and last year she sat with Catra every single day.” Glimmer shrugs, “It happens, people find someone for the winter and then the next year they come back and whatever circumstances caused them to be attracted to that person, just aren’t there anymore.”

“Wow, so do a lot of people do that? Um…have seasonlong, uh, romances?”

Bow and Glimmer exchange a _look_. Bow wiggles his eyebrows, “Yeah you could say that…”

Glimmer makes a face. “Not a whole lot to do down here. People get a little stir-crazy. Close quarters, bored out of your mind…you’ll understand after being here for a couple months. It happens in the Olympic Village, I’ve heard.”

Adora _has_ heard. Has _witnessed._ “Um, that’s true…”

“Adora! Glimmer! Bow!” Sea Hawk exclaims as he sets his tray down and drags over a chair and sits in it. “How are you this fine evening?”

Glimmer rolls her eyes, but Bow perks up. “Hey Sea Hawk!”

“Hello Bow! Have you discovered anything new in your latest set of cores?”

Sea Hawk listens attentively as Bow launches into an explanation of the progress they’ve made analyzing their latest cores. Adora loses the thread of the conversation a couple minutes in when Bow starts talking about “silicate rich particulate matter”, and that’s when Mermista pulls up a chair.

“Hey, scoot over.” She says, and now the table, which normally fits Adora, Bow, and Glimmer comfortably, is really starting to be cramped. Adora scoots over, and then scoots back from the table, since she’s already done with dinner. And _then_ Perfuma comes over, and seeing that the table is cramped but obviously wanting to join them, she brings her chair next to Adora, sets down a canvas bag, and balances her tray on her knees.

“Hey Perfuma,” Adora says, “here, switch with me! I’m done eating.”

“Oh, I couldn’t take your spot, I’m perfectly fine here!” Perfuma exclaims, and as if to prove her point, starts eating. She leans into the conversation, and finally Adora scoots out further so that they can both be at least somewhat involved.

“…all I’m saying is, you could do with a tune-up from your friendly neighborhood Sea Hawk!” Seahawk is saying to Glimmer.

Glimmer frowns, “Maybe you’re right. It’s super hard to tell how fast the drill is going when it’s in operation.”

“That’s what I’m talking about! With my expertise, you could be drilling cores in half the time! Well,” he qualifies, “less time anyway.”

“Ok, well come in around...10? Tomorrow to take a look.”

“You know,” Sea Hawk continues in a lower voice, furtively glancing around the cafeteria, “I could talk to Entrapta…she’s the one who could really _fix_ the drill.”

“Not an option.” Glimmer says in a tight voice, then sighs, “Even though you’re right…you come look at it first, ok? I really don’t want to get on my mom’s bad side a month in.”

“Sounds good! I’ll come to the lab tomorrow morning and I _will_ bring snacks. You have been warned.”

“Ugh. Why do _they_ get snacks?” Mermista says, crossing her arms.

Sea Hawk sniffs. “Because, my dear Mermista, they have _asked_ me to help them, and I will try to offset the misery that broken equipment cause by bringing food with me.”

Mermista crosses her arms. “Our glacial movement sensors have needed electronic recalibration for weeks, and you haven’t done anything about it.”

Sea Hawk raises an eyebrow. “…that would be because you didn’t tell me you needed help with them.”

“…well they do. Need you to look at them.”

“Hmm,” Sea Hawk strokes his chin thoughtfully, “can you describe the problem? When did this start occurring?”

Mermista, weirdly, seems flustered when she says, “Yeah, their readings are just, like, way above average. I’m not sure when it started. Four, no five days ago?” She’s staring _very_ intently into Sea Hawk’s eyes.

Even more interestingly, Sea Hawk flushes. “…oh. Interesting. Yes I will certainly come look at those. Would 11 tomorrow work?”

Mermista leans back in her chair. “Yeah that’ll work.”

Adora is absolutely fascinated by this exchange, and a quick glance around the table tells her that everyone else is too. But apparently that’s the end of the exchange because Mermista starts describing her new thermal coat to Perfuma immediately.

Finally Glimmer says, “So! Tomorrow’s our off day, who wants to marathon Lord of the Rings?”

Bow asks, “Extended or regular? Also, I do!”

“Extended, duh. And yeah, the invitation was for everyone else.”

Adora frowns. “What are the, uh, extended…movies?”

Bow and Glimmer’s eyes go wide. Glimmer exclaims, “You haven’t seen the Extended Editions?”

Bow says incredulously to Glimmer, “_How has she never seen the Extended editions?”_

“So…are they like, longer? Than normal?” Bow and Glimmer just continue being shocked to each other. Adora muses to herself, “Why would you have a longer version of the same movie…why wouldn’t you just make one the real movie…”

Glimmer sighs as if this statement pains her. “The Extended Editions are basically the director’s cuts. But the movies were already really long, so they released special editions with extra scenes and stuff!”

Bow pipes up, “We do a marathon at least once a winter. It’s our tradition!”

Mermista rolls her eyes. “A lame tradition.”

Bow says, “Maybe, but you’ve come to at least two.”

This only makes Mermista even more annoyed.

Adora says, “That sounds fun! I definitely want to come.”

Glimmer looks confused. “Oh, we were assuming you were coming anyway. Since it’s tradition!”

It’s _not _tradition for Adora, but she doesn’t mention it. It’s nice to know that Glimmer already considers her such a good friend that she forgot this is Adora’s first winter at Amundsen-Scott.

* * *

“Hello Adora, please take a seat,” Angella Brightmoon says, gesturing to the chair across the desk from her.

Adora nervously perches on the edge of her seat, hands clasped in her lap. This is her first time formally meeting with Dr. Brightmoon, and she’s been on edge since she got the email with the calendar invite. She made such a complete idiot of herself when they’d met the first time.

Dr. Brightmoon shuffles some papers, while Adora resists the urge to fidget. Finally, she continues, “I thought we could have an informal chat.” Dr. Brightmoon laces her fingers in front of her. “Although my daughter rarely tells me _anything_ about her life, in the past few weeks you do seem to have made an impact.” She studies Adora thoughtfully, and Adora isn’t sure if she’s waiting for a response, or just gathering her thoughts.

“After hearing such rave reviews, I decided to review your credentials.” She opens a file folder.

Adora has to keep reminding herself to breath. This is it. This is when Dr. Brightmoon realizes she’s just a talented hockey player who somehow conned one of the top programs into accepting her. That she’s an imposter—her papers are trash, her transcripts are—

“I must say, I am quite impressed.” Dr. Brightmoon says, and Adora realizes she’d been holding her breath and exhales in a whoosh. “Glimmer mentioned your hockey history, but looking at your academic work, you really are an extraordinarily well-rounded young woman. This most recent paper, I see you are the second author—“

“That’s the thesis work that one of our more recent PhD’s did, and I worked very closely with her. I developed the data pipeline to support her work on the theoretical side, and really she even said we should have gotten equal attribution, but that’s not how—” Adora interrupts, eager to explain why she currently has no first-author publications on her record.

Dr. Brightmoon blinks, then clears her throat, “As I was saying, it’s a very good paper and I look forward to seeing what you publish next. This is some very fine technical work, and it’s well documented. Glimmer could take a page out of your book…” she mutters, but Adora doesn’t think she was supposed to hear the last part.

Oh no. She’s gone and made a fool of herself again. “So sorry to interrupt, Dr. Brightmoon!”

“Oh, please do call me Angella.” Dr. Bri—Angella says, smiling kindly at Adora.

Adora’s face is hot with embarrassment. Why is she always such an idiot? “I’m so glad you enjoyed my—our paper! I’m working on expanding on it for my thesis.”

“That’s wonderful. When do you anticipate that you will finish?”

Adora’s chest tightens. “Oh, um…” She scratches the back of her neck, “hopefully sometime this year?”

Angella smiles and nods knowingly, “Hit a stumbling block?”

“You could say that…” Adora trails off. She doesn’t _really _want to get into it.

“Well. All the best luck, Adora. I believe you have the makings of a top-notch scientist.” Her smile fades into something more serious. “I _would_ like to bring one small thing to your attention though. While looking through your record, I happened to notice that your very first paper,” she glances down at Adora’s résumé, as if to check one last time that it’s true, and Adora knows what she’s noticed before she says it, “was co-authored by you, and…Dr. Romero.” Angella peers at Adora. “Is that a typo? Did you work with the same Dr. Romero, who is working here currently?”

In the nightmares that wake her up with her heart racing, sitting bolt-upright in bed, her senior thesis paper always comes back to bite her. She pinches her thigh, _hard_, and it hurts in a way that will probably bruise. She’s not dreaming, and yet here she is. She sits ramrod straight and because there’s no point in lying, answers, “Yes. Ca—Dr. Romero and I both went to Etheria University for undergrad. And we both majored in Astrophysics. I guess that’s, uh, obvious. That was our, um…our senior theses culminated in co-writing a paper on our research. In undergrad.” Dammit.

“I see.” Angella looks unhappy. “Well, that can’t be helped, I suppose. But you must understand that, while you regrettably must work together, I will have to ask you to maintain a professional distance from Catra, despite your past…fraternization.”

Adora violently stifles a snort. Angella doesn’t know the _half_ of it.

Angella sighs, “You are in a unique position. Normally, Dr. Weaver and I split our management duties by department or project, each of us managing all individuals in the same department. Dr. Weaver is Catra’s supervisor, and should have been yours as well. However, she has been so caught up with writing grant renewals for her projects, that she was unable to review the applicants for your position. I took it upon myself to do that task, and as a result, I assigned you to my supervision since I hired you.” Angella says serenely.

Whatever Angella says, it’s obvious that this is one battle in the war Glimmer and Bow had described that Angella had won, and it’s clear, despite her diplomatic explanation, that Angella is extremely satisfied to have finagled Adora into being her supervisee.

“I understand that you will unavoidably be collaborating during normal working hours. But please limit your relationship to a working one, and refrain from socializing outside of that with Catra, or any other supervisee of Dr. Weaver. In the past there have been…altercations. They have not turned out favorably to those involved.” Her voice is hard and final.

Adora’s eyes widen, fractionally. Is this actually for real? She’d kind of thought that Bow and Glimmer had been exaggerating. But now she thinks back to Scorpia’s fear in the cafeteria, to the way Catra had needed to cajole Sea Hawk into driving them, _both_ of them, to the ICL…Apparently, this feud is just as significant as they’d made it out to be. She says, “I understand. Don’t worry, Catra and I haven’t been friends in a long time. It won’t be a problem.”

“Wonderful!” Angella is all smiles again. “In that case, I don’t have anything else planned. Is there anything you’d like to discuss with me?”

Adora’s mind whirrs. “I don’t think so. Thank you for setting up this meeting.”

“Yes, it was good to finally have a chance to get to know each other and I’m sorry I took so long to schedule something. From now on, I’d like to do one-on-one check ins each week, does that sound good?”

“Sounds great!”

“Wonderful. See you next week then, Adora.” And with that, Angella turns back to her computer.

Adora stands up and leaves Angella’s office. It’s only as she’s walking down the hall towards the cafeteria that she feels the trickle of sweat between her shoulderblades.

* * *

**6 weeks into Antarctic Winter**

Today is the last day they’ll see the sun for three months. Every day since she’s arrived, the sun has crested the horizon a little later, its high point a little lower. It’s gradual enough that at first, Adora hadn’t really noticed the difference between one day and the next. But today the sun will rise, and tomorrow…it won’t. The whole station is filled with a kind of frantic, desperate energy. Everyone shifts their schedules around so they’re free midday, for the short time they’ll see daylight. There’s an open mic night scheduled tonight after dinner, which Adora can only imagine is to prevent the station from succumbing to mass depression.

Adora, Bow and Glimmer convene at 11, carrying as many layers as humanely possible. The weather has been getting steadily worse, but today is absolutely still, and the sky is deep blue and crystal clear. They watch the sun rise from inside the station, breath fogging the window. Adora is mesmerized. She’s certainly damaging her retinas by staring at the sun for so long, but all she wants to do is drink in the bright, orangey light as long and much as possible. When she has to take a break, blinking away the after-image, she glances at Bow and Glimmer on either side of her. They’re both glowing, the sunlight illuminating their faces and their identical wistful expressions. Adora’s heart swells with fondness. She never imagined she’d find such amazing friends down here, certainly not so quickly. But somehow over the past six weeks, through breakfasts and dinners and saunas and board games and everything else, they’ve wormed their way straight into her heart.

Glimmer glances at her watch, interrupting Adora’s thoughts. “Oh my god it’s time!”

Adora and Bow leap to their feet and all three of them hurry to don all their layers. Bow even brought a balaclava, which Adora has the feeling she’s going to envy in a few minutes. Then Adora opens the door and they step outside.

Single file, they walk to the South Pole, which is on a small raised snow plateau surrounded by a twenty-foot circle of flagpoles hung with flags from all around the world. There are other people out here too, leaning on railings of outdoor staircases and sitting on chairs. Catra, Scorpia, Kyle, Lonnie, and Rogelio are sitting in five lawn chairs lined up side by side. Everyone Adora can see faces the setting sun to the north.

A feeling of reverence washes over Adora as she walks slowly across the circle of flags. She comes to the edge, gazing at where dusky pink washes over the deep blue of the sky. A moment later she feels Glimmer and Bow join her on either side. They stand together, and now the sun is is only a slim curve on the horizon.

The sliver of red-orange light gets narrower and narrower. Adora’s vision narrows with it, feels connected to it almost, like she’s slipping down, down with the sun, and she reaches down for Glimmer’s hand, then Bow’s. They both slide their mittens into hers instantly, and she squeezes, hard. They both squeeze back tightly, and don’t let go. They’re all they have for the next five months, after all. That somehow feels more significant now than ever.

The last pinprick of light disappears.

Adora blinks in what feels like a long time, and feels ice on her eyelashes (she hadn’t noticed she’d been crying). They stand there a little longer, watching the horizon fade from orange, to red, to blue.

Finally, Glimmer breaks their reverie. “I can’t feel my fingers.”

Adora doesn’t want to turn her back on the sun. But the sun is gone now, so there’s nothing left to turn away _from_. Glimmer tugs her hand and the three of them walk back to the station. She says, “Razz makes a killer hot cocoa, and I could smell it all the way from our lab.”

Bow groans, “It was _torture_. We have to go get some.”

Adora nods numbly, and they walk back to the station. Catra is stacking the lawn chairs, and their eyes meet for a moment. Catra tilts her chin up in acknowledgement, then picks up the stacked chairs and turns away.

The hot chocolate _is_ really good.

When Adora eventually makes her way to the lab for the afternoon, Catra glances up briefly, then turns back to her work, the same as she’s done almost every other time Adora’s come in. But something small and significant has shifted, just a bit. For the first time, it just feels…neutral. Like a shared office, with someone she’s known for a very long time. Maybe they can’t be friends. And even if they could, Adora was _just_ explicitly warned not to be by her boss. But maybe they can be this. Friendly, if not friends (It’s better than nothing). And anyway, it’s not like there’s anyone else out here at the ICL to see them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a late update! The weekend has been busy. Kudos or comments are the highlight of my week y'all! Thanks for following along folks. :D


	6. Something so known

##  Sophomore year, September

**Adora**

“Adora!” Catra sings, skipping up beside her as she’s walking to practice and falling into step with her, “Why didn’t you wait for me? I was almost ready.”

“_Because_ you weren’t ready yet, and I didn’t want to be late. Again.” Adora mumbles, clutching her thermos tightly. The coffee inside is making her mouth water, but it’s still too hot to drink.

“Whatever, it’s not like Jenkins cares.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure she does? She told me after practice last week that if you made me late again, our playtime would suffer.”

Catra huffs and grumbles, “God what is with her? Why does she hate me so much? I don’t _make you late._”

“She doesn’t! She just values timeliness, I guess.”

“Earth to Adora, being five minutes late isn’t going to make you stop being our top forward, and it’s not going to make me a worse defender. And anyway,” she crosses her arms as they walk to the rink, “I get my gear on faster than anyone else. And I _am_ faster than anyone else, so she should get off my back.”

Adora sighs, “Yeah I know, I was just trying to make her happy, ok?”

“Whatever.” Catra speedwalks ahead, faster than Adora’s already brisk pace. “I’m gonna beat you there, and then she can’t use me as an excuse!”

Adora sticks her tongue out, “You think _you’re_ the fastest?”

“I know I am!” Catra calls over her shoulder, then doubles down on her pace, pulling away from Adora.

Adora starts walking faster.

##  Sophomore year October

**Adora**

Catra’s phone buzzes. She picks her phone up and glances at it, then lets it fall onto her stomach. Then she slowly curls onto her side.

Adora is lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling of their dorm room. Across the room, Catra sniffs.

Adora isn’t sure what to say. It’s unbearable not to know how to comfort her best friend. She’d offer sympathy, but she knows that’s never what _she _wanted. Finally, she sits up and pats the bed next to her, “C’mon, get over here.”

For a moment, Catra doesn’t move. Then she gathers the blanket she was wrapped in into her arms, and climbs into Adora’s bed next to her. She hugs it tight to her chest. Adora puts her arm around her, and Catra tips into her side and she’s finally reached her limit, because she starts to sob like she’ll never stop.

Adora doesn’t say anything, just rubs Catra’s arm over and over again in a motion that she hopes is soothing, and rests her chin on the top of Catra’s head.

Catra cries, and cries. A couple times, she slows down, tries to stop, takes deep breaths, but then her breath catches, and that turns into a sob, and another one…

Adora just keeps rubbing her arm, keeps holding her.

Dinnertime passes, and she’s starving, but she doesn’t say anything. After a long time, Catra’s crying has subsided into an occasional shuddery breath, a lot more sniffling. She ventures, “Are you uncomfortable scrunched up like that?”

Catra nods.

“How about we lie down then?” Adora sits up straighter, then scoots over and rearranges herself, lying on her side and curling her body so she’s face to face with Catra. Catra opens her eyes halfway to look at her, though her gaze is unfocused. Her eyes are swollen, eyelashes clumped together.

“We can talk about it, if you want,” Adora says softly, “But we don’t have to.”

Catra squeezes her eyes closed, and a tear slides over the bridge of her nose and falls on Adora’s quilt. “I can’t believe—“ she breaks off, takes a shuddery breath, “_she’s gone._“ she whispers.

“Your grandma, right?” Adora asks quietly.

It had been almost the end of class (Heroes and Heroines: Constructions of Power in Pop Culture) when Catra had gotten the phone call. She’d declined it, but a few seconds later, she’d gotten a second call. She looked at their professor and pointed at the phone, then hurried out of the classroom.

Adora had immediately started gathering up both of their things, and had made pleading eyes at the prof until he’d given a small nod, and then she’d bolted after Catra. Catra wasn’t in the hallway outside her classroom. Adora made a quick decision and hurried toward a branching hallway that was usually quiet.

She’d turned the corner in time to see Catra fall back against the wall and slide to the floor, phone held in her lap like a precious thing. Her head dropped to press against her knees. Adora could just barely hear a tinny male voice speaking.

_“Do you want to speak to her?”_

Catra takes a deep, shuddering breath, and whispers “y—yeah. Thanks dad.” A pause, some background noise, like there are a lot of people in a small room. Catra picks her phone up so very gently and lifts it to her ear. “Hi _abuela_. It’s me, Catra.” She says lowly.

Oh. Adora slowly walks over to Catra, and slides down to sit next to her. She uncertainly places her hand face-up on the cold linoleum floor between her and Catra.

Catra grasps Adora’s hand and squeezes it tightly. “That’s good. I’m glad—I’m glad everyone is there with you.” She grips even tighter as she listens, and Adora can feel Catra’s hand shaking a little with it. Catra says, “_I love you. I love you. I love—“ _she breaks off with a sharp inhale, trying not to cry.

Catra’s abuela says something else. Then Catra says, “I wish I could be there. I—“ she inhales, “—miss you. I’m going to—I’m going to miss you so much.” Catra pulls Adora’s hand with hers across her stomach, presses their two arms against her like she’s in physical pain. But her voice is steady when she says, “Abuela I love you. So. Much.”

Then the phone must be handed off, because there’s the man’s voice again. Catra lets the hand with the phone in it drop limply to her side, and she tilts her tear-streaked face to the ceiling, eyes closed. Catra’s dad is still speaking, so Adora reaches across Catra and takes the phone, lifting it to her ear.

“Hi Mr. Romero, this is Adora, Catra’s roommate.”

“_Oh hello Adora.” _Catra’s dad says, “_I’m glad she’s not alone.”_

“I’ll always be here for Catra.”

_“I can’t tell you how comforting that is. This is…very hard. For all of us.”_

“I’m so sorry.” Adora says hollowly. What do you say to someone whose loved one is dying? Everything just sounds meaningless.

Catra’s dad sighs deeply, “_Thank you. It’s especially difficult for Catra, that she can’t be here. My wife’s mother…Catra has always been closest with her.”_

Adora squeezes Catra’s hand, “I know what it’s like. To lose someone like that. I’ll stick with her. I promise.” Catra very faintly squeezes back.

_“That means the world to her mom and I…Can I talk to Catra again, please?”_

“Of course.” Adora holds out the phone to Catra.

Catra lets go of Adora’s hand and takes it. “Hey dad...yeah I guess so…” she says in a watery voice

As Catra quietly talks to her dad, Adora flexes her hand. Her palm is sweaty. She fishes her phone out of her pocket and quietly catches up on her emails while Catra is on the phone.

“…text me when. When she—ok?...love you too. Bye.” Catra stares at her phone, thumb hovering over the red button. Her dad hangs up first.

They sit in silence. Finally, Adora says, “Let’s go home.”

Catra nods.

Now, lying on Adora’s bed together, Catra takes a deep breath. “I was always her favorite of the cousins. Which was—“ she sniffs, “—nice. For once. She always snuck me an extra cookie when I was little…she remembers—“ Catra breaks off into a sob, presses her face towards the bed.

Adora reaches out and gently finger-combs Catra’s hair away from her face and tucks a lock behind her ear. “What do you need?”

“Just—stay.” Catra whispers. She’s quiet for a long time. “She remembered everything I told her. Especially what I liked…favorite food, favorite color, which classes I was loving…she’d always ask me about things I’d mentioned _months_ before. And now she never—“ her breath catches, “I knew she was…fading…I just tried to forget that someday she’d—and then there’d be—“ she breaks off, and doesn’t finish the thought.

“It’s hard to lose someone like that,” Adora says softly.

Catra nods miserably, eyes filling up with tears again.

Adora continues, “I’m not your abuela. But…hey, I know your favorite color is maroon, and your favorite food is those shitty cookies that come in a tube, and right now your favorite class is Planetary Science.”

The corner of Catra’s mouth turns up, just a little. Adora continues earnestly, “She was really special to you, huh? That will _never change._ But, Catra,” she’s not really sure how to articulate this. She’s not sure how much she should just let Catra grieve. But Catra has already cried so much, and Adora doesn’t want her to spiral and she wants her to know that she’s _not alone_, that— “Hey. Catra. Your abuela is _not_ the only person who will ever know you, or think you are worth loving. Ok?”

She can tell that Catra doesn’t exactly believe her, not right now. That’s ok. Catra is an overflowing well of grief and misery right now. But Adora’s going to keep telling her this, until she gets it through her head. However long it takes. “Also, did your abuela know your favorite number? Cuz I do.”

Catra snorts, a messy affair what with all the crying that’s happened. She releases her tight grip on her blanket to wipe her eyes. “…what is it, then…”

“28,521,” Adora says matter-of-factly, “28 cuz your birthday is October 28th, 5 is the number of people in your family, and 21 has been your jersey number on every team you’ve ever played on. Did I get it right?” She grins.

Catra laughs weakly, “Yeah, how’d you know that?”

“First of all, you told me. Second of all, c’mon! Do you think I’d forget such important information as my best friend’s favorite number?”

Catra rolls her eyes. “You are_ so weird_.”

“Takes one to know one!” She’s achieved her goal: Catra no longer looks quite as miserable as she had just half an hour ago, even though Adora can still see the sadness in her eyes. “Dinner’s over, wanna order pizza? I have a coupon.” On cue, Adora’s stomach grumbles audibly. Catra snorts, and she sheepishly pulls out her phone.

When the delivery guy arrives Adora and Catra go down to meet him, and Catra sticks to her like glue. She’s wrapped herself up in the blanket like a cloak, but nobody bats an eye as they make the exchange of cash for pizza and head back up to their room. Honestly, plenty of people are reduced to cocooning up while studying for a midterm.

Adora’s mouth is watering as they plop down on her bed and crack open the pizza box. She leans down and smells the warm, delicious air that escapes.

“Are you _smelling_ our pizza?” Catra says incredulously.

“Uh, yeah? Doesn’t it smell delicious?” Adora closes her eyes and exhales in bliss.

“Sure Adora. Time spent smelling is time spent not eating, that’s all I’m saying.” Catra reaches over and pulls off a cheesy slice and takes a bite. “Mmmm this is so good. Why is this so good?” she says around the bite she’s already taken. They’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, and honestly it’s a little hard to eat pizza like this, but Catra has become somewhat of a barnacle and shows no signs of stopping. Adora’s ok with it.

After they’ve devoured the large pizza (two varsity athletes have one hell of a metabolism between them), Adora yawns and glances at her watch. She groans, “It’s so late, class is going to be hell tomorrow…” She starts getting ready for bed while Catra continues to sit in her bed, scrolling on her phone, and becoming tenser and tenser by the second, and when she motions for Catra to scoot off her bed so she can get in, she glimpses the raw panic in Catra’s eyes.

She pauses. Then makes a quick decision. “Hey, wanna push our beds together into a megabed? Some other girls down the hall did it, seemed pretty fun.” Adora’s careful-casual, knowing that Catra needs to be close but that she’s terrible at ever _asking_ for things.

Catra practically melts with relief, but she wrinkles her nose, “How would that work? Both our bedspreads are only twin size.”

“Actually, mine’s way bigger! I just tuck one half under my bed since it’s so wide.” She lightly pulls on Catra’s ankles to get her off her bed, and this time, Catra moves easily. She lifts her mattress up to reveal the other half of her quilt tucked completely under it, and pulls the quilt off her bed. She holds it up, but her arms aren’t wide enough to span it. “I dunno what size it is, I don’t think my grandma used any standard measurements…it’s at least a queen size though?”

Catra cackles, “This is going to be _so awesome!” _She starts tugging her bed from across the room until the bedframe lines up with Adora’s. She frowns. “There’s gonna be a gap in the middle though…”

Adora pokes her in the side. “You planning on snuggling or something?”

Catra crosses her arms. “Like that would be the worst thing. I know you’re always too cold. I bet you’d like it.”

Adora scoffs. “Whatever, help me get the sheets arranged.”

She ends up pulling out her sewing kit and quickly stitching their sheets together so there won’t be any weird gaps, and in short order, they have a mega-bed. This time, when Adora hops into bed, Catra gets ready by herself, and a few minutes later they’re lying in their new sleeping arrangement.

Adora, feeling mischievous, moves her leg over to Catra’s side and presses her cold toes against her calf. “Jesus Adora your feet are blocks of ice!” Catra shrieks and shoves Adora’s leg back to her side. “I’m definitely never gonna snuggle with you, it would be like sleeping with a…a snowman!”

Adora just hums in agreement. She’s so tired. And she’s sure Catra must be as well. Before she knows it, she’s dreaming.

For the record, Catra is a _huge_ cuddler. They start on opposite sides of the bed(s) every night, but more often than not Adora wakes up with her legs entwined with Catra’s, and Catra’s hair tickling the side of her face. Adora’s pretty much always shared a room with someone, but this is her first time ever sharing a bed. It’s…nice, actually. Comforting. It becomes part of Adora’s norm almost instantly, and Adora _loves_ routines.

##  November, Sophomore year

**Catra**

“I’m gonna get there first!” Adora squeals, speed-walking away from Catra, paperwork in hand.

“Nuh-uh, hey no you got a head start,” Catra says, speed-walking faster to catch up. She breaks into a light run.

Adora hisses, “_No running in academic buildings!”_

“I don’t see anyone, it doesn’t matter,” Catra giggles, “I’m gonna beat you!”

Adora starts running too, so Catra picks up the pace. They skid around a corner and Catra flies out the door like the cork of a bottle. She starts sprinting across campus, Adora right behind her. Adora may be She-Ra, beloved of the school newspaper and Etheria’s top scorer, but in a flat out footrace they both know that Catra wins every time.

They race past academic buildings. Adora’s heavy breathing and feet pounding the cement are music to Catra’s ears—until they’re gone. Catra glances back, then skids to a halt when she doesn’t see Adora behind her. Where did she—_there! _There’s a narrow alley between the Engineering and Math buildings. But Catra can’t catch up if she goes that way. She’ll just have to try to beat Adora by going the normal way. She starts sprinting even faster than before. She flies past students walking back from class, practically vaults over the hood of a car as she’s crossing a street. The honking fades away behind her as she finally comes into view of the Administrative Building.

She sees Adora in her peripheral vision, also running toward the main door. She pushes her body to the absolute limit, and races up the steps to slam her hand on the door just seconds before Adora.

They both lean heavily on the door, gasping for breath. A trickle of sweat runs down the back of Catra’s neck, and she wipes the perspiration from her forehead, then holds up the paper that is now crumpled in her fist.

Adora makes a little _oops _face and offers her similarly sorry excuse for a Major declaration form. “Um,” she starts, “uhhhhhh ok ok ok.” Adora tries to flatten out her form on the door behind them, but it’s stupidly embossed with _symbolic imagery_ and the edge of a wooden lily threatens to tear the paper.

Catra smooths her form out on her leg as best as she can, then bends over and starts running it back and forth over her thigh. “Hey, this is working I think,” she exclaims.

“Oh my god you’re brilliant,” Adora says and starts doing the same.

Five minutes later, their forms are the best they’re going to be in this life. The two of them walk meekly into the building and towards the Registrar’s office.

Catra glances sideways at Adora. Her best friend is biting the inside of her lip, eyebrows furrowed as she looks at her limp and wrinkled form. Catra oh-so-slowly starts walking faster, then breaks into a run right before they reach the Registrar’s office. She slams her form down in front of the Registrar. “Imdeclaringastrophysicsheresmyform,” she rushes, then “Oof” as Adora bowls into her back and slams her form next to Catra’s.

The registrar looks incredulously at the two of them. They’re a mess and Catra knows it. Her hair is wild and frizzy and Adora has wisps stuck to her face. They’re both flushed and sweaty, and their forms have _definitely_ seen better days. The registrar sighs, and dully picks up their forms. “Congratulations on declaring,” she peers at their forms, “Astrophysics, both? I think you two are the first ones to declare this major in your year. Help yourself to a candy.”

“You cheated!” Adora gripes, while poking through the candy dish (mostly butterscotch). The Registrar starts entering information into her computer.

“I did not! Never said the race was over at the door. Besides, you’re just bitter because you lost,” Catra says, and sticks her tongue out. She unwraps a peppermint and pops it in her mouth. She’s being childish, but she’s always the goofiest with Adora.

Adora crosses her arms, “Whatever, let’s go to the dining hall,” she says, and heads back out of the office.

Catra skips to catch up with her. “We’re declaaaaaared!” she crows once they’re out of the building.

“Don’t make me regret _volunteering_ to spend every waking second with you,” Adora says, but she’s smiling just as wide.

“Can’t get enough of me, huh princess,” Catra grins.

“Nope.”

##  Sophomore year, May

**Adora**

“And our captain next year by a nearly unanimous vote will be….Adora Sherman!”

The team claps as Adora stands up, stunned. She dazedly walks to the front of the room and shakes hands with Coach Finnegan. “Um, thanks, everyone. For uh, voting for me.” What are you supposed to say when you get made captain? Her mind is blank. “We worked really hard this season, and we’ll miss you Seniors. But I think—I promise to try my best to make this team the best it can be. I think we can be amazing.” She looks straight at Catra, “We have the right stuff to be one of the best. And I’ll do everything I can to get us there. So…thanks for trusting me.” She finishes abruptly and walks back to her seat.

She sits back down, and Catra gives her a hug. “Very eloquent,” she mutters in Adora’s ear, and Adora snorts.

The rest of the end-of-season banquet passes in a blur. After it’s over, Adora and Catra head back to their apartment.

Catra is, unusually, quiet, apparently deep in thought. Adora nudges her, “What’re you thinking about?”

Catra turns to her and bursts out, “I’ve been trying to figure out who didn’t vote for you!”

Adora blushes. “What do you mean? Coach said it was unanimous.”

“No, she said it was _ nearly _ unanimous. So someone didn’t vote for you. I wanna figure out who so I can knock some sense into her.”

Adora laughs, “Please don’t beat anyone up!”

Catra reaches back and pulls the ponytail out of her hair, shaking her head and letting it cascade around her shoulders and Adora can’t help but admire it. (Catra’s hair is always so pretty) “All I’m saying is, someone’s clearly not appreciating you enough—“

“Catra, you’re being dumb. It was me. Obviously I didn’t vote for myself. I voted for you_ . _” Adora says matter-of-factly.

Catra blinks. “Oh. Um. Thanks, Adora.”

Adora shrugs, “I mean, obviously you would make a great captain, everyone can see that.”

Catra is silent. She kicks a pinecone and it skitters off the sidewalk.

“…You would, you know that right? You’re passionate and dedicated, and you hold the team together in all these little ways. Although _ apparently _ nobody else notices.” Adora says with frustration.

Her roommate just shrugs, “I dunno, I guess it could be fun to be like, co-captains or something, _ if _ it was with you. I wouldn’t have to do everything.”

Adora’s eyes light up, “Woah that _ would _ be so fun!”

“…anyway, you better not make me skate lines if I’m late or anything…”

“Nope, because you’re never gonna be late! Because we live together and go to practice together and _ I _ have to be early!”

Catra raises one eyebrow skeptically, “Old habits die hard but whatever you say, Captain She-Ra.”

Adora makes a face. “It’s weird when you call me that.”

“Captain? Or _ She-Ra _?”

Adora sighs, “You know which one.”

“Hey if _ I _ had a nickname that fans chanted from the stands every game I’d be getting the mileage in with it.”

“I know, but it’s just weird when _ you _ call me that.”

##  Junior year January

**Adora**

“I’m baaaack!” Catra calls, followed by the sound of the door slamming.

Adora looks up from the game she’s been playing on her phone, and suddenly notices how dark it is outside. Crap, she forgot to eat dinner. “I’m in here!” She’s lying on her stomach at the foot of her bed.

A few seconds later, Catra appears in the doorway, taking off her coat and then as she walks to her closet, proceeds to shed her scarf, gloves, and sweater until she’s down to her t-shirt and leggings. She dumps everything in a heap next to the closet, and then takes a flying leap onto the bed beside Adora.

Technically, it’s their bed. When they’d looked for apartments, it had become clear that neither of them could afford a two-bedroom apartment. And they’d kind of gotten used to sharing, so instead of taking up their living space with another bed, they’d just decided to…keep sharing. It’s worked so far (And Adora _does_ get cold at night).

“Oof!” Adora says as she’s bounced a few inches off the bed, “Aww, hey, you made me lose this level!”

Catra glances over at her phone. “I beat that level two weeks ago.”

“I know, you’ve said so like seven times already.” Adora huffs, then presses replay.

Catra scooches over even closer to her and rests her chin on Adora’s shoulder to watch. “Catra…” Adora groans, “you watching is gonna make me mess up!”

“You can play another time. I wanna know how your winter break was!”

Adora sighs and puts her phone down. “Boring, as usual.” She’d read a book that had been on her list for months. She’d slept, a lot. She’d met with the professor she was thinking about writing her thesis with next year to talk about summer research.

“I still don’t understand why you won’t just stay with us all break! My parents love you, and you already come for the week before Christmas…”

It’s true that Catra has made the offer every year since their freshman year. And this is the third time that Adora has stayed with the Romeros for a few days before coming back to school for the rest of the break. That week is her favorite time of the year. And every year when Catra offers, she refuses to stay with them all break. “I just don’t want to be a burden.”

Catra scoffs, “Did you miss the part where my parents _invited_ you? Even our first year, I mentioned to my mom that you didn’t have family to stay with over the holiday, and she told me I’d _better_ invite you to stay with us.”

It’s not that Adora doesn’t _want_ to stay the whole break. She loves the Romeros. But she’s always most aware of the ways in which Catra and she are not the same, when she’s around Catra’s family. Catra’s family is…more people than Adora’s _ever_ had. And Catra loves all of them, even if she likes some members of her family more than others. Adora, on the other hand…the last time Adora had one person who was dedicated completely to her, was when she lived with her grandma until she was five. And it’s a little terrifying to be faced with the realization that Catra has people other than her. Adora hates that she still kind of thinks that Catra loving other people means she has less left for her.

One thing she’d learned growing up as a foster kid, is that a whole lot of the love in the world is conditional. She’s always trying to be the best. The best, most supportive friend. The best hockey player. The best student. It drives Catra nuts, Adora’s competitive side. But she can’t just turn it off, can she? Not when she’s spent almost her whole life working to be _perfect_. And most of the time it works. Her professors love her. Her coaches love her. Her best friend loves her.

“Earth to Adora,” Catra waves her hand in front of Adora’s eyes, and Adora refocuses, “lost you for a second there!”

Adora shakes her head a little. “Sorry. Um, break was fine. Oh! I organized the kitchen, lemme show you!” She hops up off of the bed and leads the way to the kitchen, which has transformed from a counterintuitive, disorganized mess, into a pristine and clearly labeled space. “See, I organized the different kinds of kitchen implements! And I borrowed a label-maker and sort of went overboard with it…And look, now all the baking supplies are in this drawer separate from the silverware.” She pulls open a few more drawers and cupboards, pointing out the improvements.

Catra hmms and looks where Adora points. “This looks really great!"

Adora grins. "Honestly I didn’t even know we _had_ half this stuff. What is this?” She picks a tool at random from the drawer.

“A pastry blender.”

“Oh, really? Huh,” Adora says, and sticks her fingers in between the metal blades and wiggles them, “the more you know…where’d we get all this stuff?” Adora’s never cooked much, certainly not the kind of cooking that would require the types of tools in this particular drawer.

“I bought most of it at the thrift store,” Catra says.

Adora picks up a hand-thrown ceramic bowl, “I think this is one of the only things that's mine. It was my grandma’s, and some of the other nicer things too. I pulled them out of the storage unit when we moved into the apartment.”

Catra picks up another kitchen implement (lemon juicer) and twirls it through her fingers speculatively. “Guess I mainly stick with the basic stuff when I'm cooking.”

She takes the bowl from Adora and Adora has to prevent herself from grabbing it back. Catra’s not going to drop it. “Um, be careful ok? It’s breakable. And…special.”

Catra glances at her quickly, then turns her attention back to the bowl, carefully turning it over in her hands. The glaze is a multicolored blend of purples and blues and greens. “Did she make this?”

“Yeah she was a ceramics artist.”

“It’s really beautiful.” Catra carefully sets it on the counter, “I’ll be careful, don’t worry. _You’re_ the klutz, not me.” She grins.

“Hey!”

“Anyway, got any ideas for dinner?”

Adora groans. “Noooo I’ve been trying to beat that level for like an hour!”

Catra hip-checks her and then opens the fridge. “You know what Coach says about nutrition shit! Ok now what’ve we—“ she whistles as she peers in the fridge. “Geez Adora, what’ve you been eating? There’s like, nothing in here.”

Adora does her best to look contrite. “Um, rice and beans, mostly? It’s easy…And I didn’t want to go to the store.”

Catra shoots her some side-eye, but doesn’t comment, just roots around some more. She emerges triumphantly with a bag of tortillas and the remnants of a block of cheese. “Tada! Quesadillas! Quick and easy.”

Soon the kitchen is filled with the smell of melting cheese, and Adora feels herself settling. The other, most secret reason she doesn’t stay at the Romeros…she and Catra’s lives are so intertwined. Every year it’s a little reminder. _Don’t lean on Catra too much. Don’t be too reliant. You don’t know how long she’ll stick around._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaaay college! Grief! Tenderness! Shenanigans! Raise your hand if you feel emotionally compromised cuz I sure do! Thanks for reading, as always, drop a comment/kudo if you're liking :D I absolutely love reading y'alls comments. <3


	7. Buried in a burning flame

## Now

“Argh!!” Catra screams in frustration, throwing herself back in her chair so hard it rolls to the other side of the room.

Adora whips her head around to stare at Catra. She’s _never_ seen Catra react so strongly to something in the lab. “Uh, what’s wrong?” She asks hesitantly. She’s still not sure what the boundaries of this new truce thing are, but clearly Catra is in a mood to vent.

Catra drags her hands over her face. “Why can’t I figure this out!?”

Adora grimaces. She can relate. It’s been two weeks since the last sunset. They’re a third of the way through the winter, and she’s had zero luck isolating the errors with the IceCube. Obviously Catra hasn’t either. “Can I take a look?” She suggests tentatively.

Catra gestures to her moniter in frustration. “Be my fucking guest. I need a minute.”

Adora stands up and cracks her back. She’s been sitting for too long. Catra groans, “Gross…you know I hate it when people do that.”

Which is true. Catra has always hated it when anyone except her cracks any joints. But this might be first time she’s alluded to their history without animosity. Maybe…? Adora bends over to peer at Catra’s moniter. She whistles. “Dang, this is _nasty._” She scrolls back, looking at the code Catra’s been running. “Oh geez. Yeah I was trying something like this last week and it was a _total_ bust.”

Catra huffs and crosses her arms defensively. “Just keep rubbing it in, Adora…”

“Oh! Sorry I didn’t mean…” Adora glances over her shoulder at Catra, shoulders tense. Fuck. She continues, “I just meant that when I tried it, I basically got the same thing. I wasn’t trying to criticize…“ Adora trails off as she continues looking back at Catra’s various tests. Something catches her eye. “Hey, what were you trying to do with this part?”

Catra reluctantly scoots her chair back to the moniter and looks too. “Oh, it was just an idea I had. It didn’t give me what I wanted so I ditched it.”

Adora furrows her brow. “I think there’s something here. Look at the output—it’s showing errors in a quarter of the detectors.”

Catra shrugs. “I know, but I think it’s a fluke or something, because I know the detectors themselves work fine, I’ve looked at their outputs as they’re entering the station.”

Adora hadn’t thought to check the data input _that_ early. “Ok, isn’t this what we’re looking for?” Adora asks excitedly, turning to Catra, “We’re looking for issues in the data pipeline, right? Since the detectors themselves haven’t changed at all, there’s gotta be something wrong with how the data gets manipulated! And this is showing—“

“—That the bug is coming from changes in the software!” Catra finishes, eyes widening.

“Specifically, from something _before this point in the code!” _Adora catches herself. “I mean, I guess it doesn’t narrow it down much, but at least we can eliminate _some_ things…”

Catra says, “No, this is great, seriously. Why haven’t we been working on this together? We’ve obviously been doing the same work twice.”

Adora _stares_. “Um. I, uh. I thought you didn’t want to?”

“Well. Clearly working together we’ll get more done.”

Adora’s mind catches on the future-tense. We _will_ get more done_. _She doesn’t say what Adora wants to hear, which is _Sorry I’ve been a total ass to you for two months, _but she knows that this is probably the best she’s going to get from Catra. Apologies aren’t really her forte. “…So where did you check the DOM outputs?”

Catra seems relieved that Adora isn’t interrogating her further about her about-face. “I’ll show you. C’mon.” She stands up and stretches. Adora hears a few pops and cracks. Catra eyes her and says, “It’s fine when _I_ do it!”

They go down to the first level of the building, which is sort of like a basement since the main entry is on the second floor, but there are windows (even though nothing is visible except the cluster of lights that is the main station). Catra leads the way to one corner that Adora’s never bothered to investigate. She pops open a panel in the wall to reveal dozens of thick cables running vertically up to the second floor. “This is the closest access point to where signals come in from the detectors. But you can’t actually look at the data here.” She snaps the panel closed again and heads back up the stairs.

They go into a room full of banks of computers. “_This_ is the closest point we can access the data.” Catra walks down one aisle to where a monitor and keyboard sit surrounded by computer hardware. She slides her fingers down a loose cable until she reaches the end, then plugs it into the laptop she brought with her. Catra sinks smoothly into a cross-legged position sitting on the floor and flips open the laptop.

Adora looks at the narrow aisle, the cables running everywhere, and _very_ carefully sits down next to Catra on the linoleum floor. She peers over Catra’s shoulder, just as carefully maintaining a few inches distance between them. “Ok, show me what you’re talking about.”

Catra types a few commands, and a diagnostic report pops up. “Look, no errors. Everything is working _perfectly_.”

Adora sits back. “Huh.”

“Yeah, so what I’m thinking is—“

Adora excitedly finishes the sentence, “We hook up some DOM’s and try to reproduce the errors?”

Catra’s eyes meet hers and Adora freezes. Did she cross a line? But Catra grins and gets to her feet. “You read my mind!”

Catra offers her hand to Adora, and she clasps hands with her to haul Adora to her feet. Which results in Adora standing close enough to Catra that she’s still a little off-balance, one foot between Catra’s shoes, their linked hands between them. Catra’s hand is warm in hers, and Adora’s traitorous eyes flick first to their linked hands, then up to Catra’s face. They both hurriedly let go at the same instant, and Adora stumbles back to avoid falling down again. Catra crosses her arms and presses her lips into a thin line.

Adora heads out of the computer room quickly, Catra close behind her.

Adora heads straight to a box shoved under a table and drags it out. It’s labeled “Extra DOM’s” in black sharpie. Unfolding the top, she pulls out a familiar sphere made of two plexiglass hemispheres, with a bundle of electronics inside. She sets it carefully on the floor and pulls out a second one, then a third and fourth, and lines them up.

Meanwhile, Catra kneels down and digs around in the box. She emerges with a bundle of cables in her hand, and pulls one DOM into her lap and starts hooking it up. Then she moves to the next one, and finally all four DOMs have cables attached that all lead to Catra’s fist.

Adora clears her throat when Catra doesn’t do anything with the cords except stare at the DOMs. “So, uh, what’re you thinking here?” she asks.

Catra glances at her fist full of cables and frowns. “These cords aren’t very long.”

“Um, well, we could bring a computer out here, if you want…” Adora trails off, “never mind, that’s probably against the rules.”

“We _make _the rules.” Catra snaps. She glares at Adora like _she’s _the one who said something, and opens her mouth like she’s going to say something else. Then she shuts it and lets the cables fall out of her hand to snake onto the floor. She glances at her watch. “It’s lunchtime. Let’s work on this more this afternoon.”

Adora’s stomach growls, loudly, and she ducks her head in embarrassment. “It’s later than I thought. Let’s go…um.” She grinds to a halt, unsure of how to phrase it in a friendly-but-not-friends way. She can’t imply they’d get lunch _together_. “…I’m gonna grab my coat and call Sea Hawk.”

“Sure.” Catra says nonchalantly. Five minutes later, when Adora grabs her coat off the coat rack, Catra does the same. They pull their jackets on and zip them up at the same time. Adora’s a perfect study in casual, but this is _weird_. When the radio crackles to life next to the door and Sea Hawk lets them know he’s here, she flips her hood up and opens the door to the freezing darkness that is the South Pole at 1 PM. Catra follows her out, and down the stairs. They trudge to the truck, which is parked in the loading bay. Its headlights illuminate swirling snowflakes suspended in the air.

As Adora hauls herself into the middle seat next to Sea Hawk, followed by Catra, Sea Hawk does a double take. “_Both_ of you are coming back?”

Catra makes an affirmative noise then slouches in her seat and looks out the window.

Sea Hawk’s eyes dart between Adora and Catra. He raises one eyebrow and says slowly, “You know, it would be a lot less work for me if you came in for lunch at the same time _every_ day…”

Adora mumbles, “Don’t count on it.” This is all moving much too quickly. Catra only stopped being a complete ass two weeks ago. She only started being even remotely friendly to Adora _today, an hour ago_. She’s not so sure about agreeing to…agreeing to what, exactly? Get rides to lunch together? They probably should have been doing that from the start. She shakes her moodiness off. “Anyway. Thanks for coming so quick, even though it’s a different time than normally.”

“Of course! It _is_ my job.”

Catra pipes up. “Technically it isn’t though. You’re only supposed to be an electrician.”

Sea Hawk scoffs, “And deny my calling? Absolutely not! Not when the station _needs_ me!”

“There are actual drivers.”

“True,” Sea Hawk says, stroking his chin, “but you must admit, I’m the best driver, based on charm _and_ skill.”

Catra doesn’t say anything to this, because it’s true. There’s a reason Angella has been so lenient in letting him drive them to and from the ICL every day.

They arrive at the main station and head to the cafeteria. Just before Catra pushes open the door, she peers in the window and then glances at Adora. “Wait a minute before going in. Shadow Weaver’s in there.” Then she walks in, leaving Adora standing in the hallway. The way she said the name catches Adora’s attention. _Shadow Weaver_ like she’s not just talking about her boss. Like Shadow Weaver is…a _threat._

Adora swallows hard. After two long minutes, she walks into the cafeteria and instantly feels the cold gaze of Dr. Weaver. She’s sitting at a table by herself, reading a book…or pretending to. Right now, Shadow Weaver makes no pretense, staring at Adora with such obvious animosity that she shivers. She quickly makes a beeline to the food line. Catra is walking toward the table with Scorpia and Rogelio already eating, but then Shadow Weaver’s voice rings out across the room. “Catra. Come join me for lunch.”

Catra stops, and from this angle Adora can see her blanch. Then she slowly turns around and walks with measured steps to Shadow Weaver’s table.

Adora’s stomach drops as she watches Catra take a seat across from Shadow Weaver out of the corner of her eye as she’s serving herself mashed potatoes. Her lab partner sits ramrod straight, not touching her food as Shadow Weaver begins to speak to her in a low voice. They aren’t the ones with the power here. The regular rules don’t apply at Amundsen-Scott, not when they’re all here at the whim of two powerful individuals like Dr. Weaver and Dr. Brightmoon. She doesn’t look in Catra and Shadow Weaver’s direction again.

* * *

The next morning, Catra and Adora relocate the DOM’s into the computer lab. They’d spent the afternoon yesterday reading documentation to figure out how to set up the hardware needed to use just four DOMs inside the ICL, rather than thousands buried in a square kilometer of ice. The small room is now a perilous web of cords and cables, stretching from floor to tables and into the computer they’ve decided will be the tester.

Catra is currently working at the computer, fingers flying over the keys as she writes code to set up the necessary configurations. Adora hovers over her shoulder, not sure what she should be doing right now and feeling useless. “Sit down Adora, you’re making me nervous.” Catra says without looking away from her screen.

Adora sits. The minute hand of the wall clock ticks by. Catra frowns slightly in concentration as she reads back the code she’s just written. A curl falls into her face and she blows at it, then huffs with frustration and tucks it behind her ear when it only flops back down onto her forehead. Adora feels around in her pants pocket and hands her a bobby pin without thinking, and Catra takes it and pins the rogue curl back like she’s done so many times before. 

She continues working for another thirty seconds before she pauses, blinks, and glances quickly at Adora. Her hand makes a little aborted move towards her hair before she stops. She bites her lip, like she’s lost her train of thought. “Sorry. Um…I’m almost done with this part.” She resumes working, more stiffly than before. Her eyes keep darting over to Adora, then away again.

Adora crosses her arms and stares fixedly at the screen, nonplussed. It had just been habit. A habit from another lifetime, though. A minute later she says, “Why are you doing all the coding again?” They hadn’t actually discussed it.

“Because _I_ wrote the code you wanted to investigate.”

“Well maybe _I _should be the one investigating it then! Since it was my idea.”

Catra looks annoyed. “I’m more familiar with the code.”

“I did basically the same thing last week.” Adora snips.

Catra closes her eyes for a second and takes a deep breath. She tugs on a lock of her hair. “Fine. You work on it. I’m going to make some coffee.” She leaves the lab in the direction of the kitchenette.

Which only makes Adora feel like a jerk. But she sits down in Catra’s chair and starts writing the idea that had been percolating while she’d been watching Catra work. Ten minutes later Catra comes back, holding two paper cups of coffee. She places one next to Adora. Adora says, “I like one—“

“Sugar and one creamer, yeah I know, princess.” Catra finishes. When Adora takes a sip, it _is_ exactly how she likes it.

“…Thanks.” She says unwillingly. Now she feels really rotten. But not enough to relinquish control of the computer. She continues working.

A while later, Catra comments, “You made a typo on line 113.”

“No I did—oh. Thanks.” The second time in as many hours she’s had to thank Catra.

A few minutes later, after Adora runs into the same error message for the third time in a row, Catra says, “Look, I don’t want to be rude but this’ll go faster if I do it. I’m more familiar with the ICL systems than you.” she says evenly.

Adora draw her hands off the keyboard and turns to Catra. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I believe you.” Catra doesn’t contest it, doesn’t push back. Infuriating. “I think you’re missing a bracket in that last part.”

Adora’s simmering frustration suddenly explodes. She rounds on Catra. “Why are you being so _nice_ to me?” she demands.

Catra’s eyes widen for half a second before settling into stubbornness. She stands up abruptly. “What are you talking about?”

“This!” Adora picks up her now empty coffee and throws it into the trash as hard as she can. It bounces off the rim and onto the floor. “Bringing me coffee!”

Catra’s jaw clenches. “I thought you’d want some, you usually have coffee in the morning, I thought—“

“Not just that! Why’d you decide we should work together yesterday? After two months of ignoring each other!” Adora stalks over to the trash and picks up the offending coffee cup and throws it into the trash again. “Why are you—going to lunch with me? And making—making inside jokes? What do you want!?”

“Geez, we’re literally just carpooling, you’re making it into a big deal when it’s not.”

Ever word Catra says just makes Adora more infuriated. The way Catra says everything like it’s only logical. Like she _isn’t_ trying to get into Adora’s good graces. She stands up and points accusingly at Catra. “No. You don’t get to tell me that it’s _not a big deal_ when you were shitty to me for _two solid months!_ And when you suddenly want to be friends again and act like everything is just, _totally_ normal, but it’s not fucking normal, _Catra_.”

Catra’s voice raises, “What do I want!? I want to have a normal _fucking_ lab partner, but oh, poor me, I get stuck with you, _again_, so sorry that I’m trying to make the best of it!”

“_Stuck with me?” _

Catra throws up her hands, “Aargh! Yes, ok? Is that what you want to hear? My second winter down here and I think that maybe this year I’ll get to run the project, be the head researcher, get some fucking respect! But _no_. Instead, _you’re_ here, waltzing in with no clue what’s going on, telling me what to do!”

“How can you say that!?” Adora practically shouts, “All I’ve tried to do is _work with you_, like it’s my job to because guess what, _it is.”_

“I’ve been nothing but nice to you! We _have _been working together!”

“Ha!” Adora laughs incredulously, “You think coffee one time makes you _nice?”_

“Yes, I was _trying_ to be nice! Obviously you didn’t think so! Once again, I’m Catra the fuckup, because you can’t figure out your own problems!” Catra is standing too, and starts to pace. “You’ve been antagonistic since day one! Is that what’s going on in that brain?” Her voice takes on a singsong quality, “Oh, I’m Adora, how can I make Catra the most miserable today? Maybe I’ll make _fun_ of her _hobbies_ she picked up when she wasn’t good enough to go pro! Maybe I’ll _needle _at her and _pick_ at her until she gets mad enough to fight me! Maybe I’ll completely take over her lab and kick her off her own damn project!”

“_My_ problems?? Oh man they are so not just my problems. _You_ were the one who left me on the ice on the second day! You wanted me to fail!”

“I was an asshole, I’m sorry, ok? I forgot I’d have to deal with you all fucking winter.”

“If you didn’t want to deal with me, why did you bring me coffee??”

Catra makes a disgusted noise. “I don’t know, Adora, I thought it might be _fun to work together._ Can you get that through your thick skull? I _thought_ it might be _fun_ to actually work with my—with you again! It’s been five fucking years, I don’t want to spend the whole winter miserable! It was a freaking olive branch, ok?”

“You wouldn’t even _look_ at me for the first month!”

“Excuse me? _You _wouldn’t look at _me!”_

“It’s not the _goddamn_ _coffee. _It’s the _five years_ part that’s really messing with me, Catra. What gives you the _right_?” Adora spits. She’s buzzing with excess energy, and there’s no way for it to escape except violently.

Catra throws up her hands in disgust. “Fine. Do you want me to be mean to you? Cuz I can do that. Whatever makes you happy, _She-Ra._”

And Adora knows that Catra can. She is perfectly capable of getting her hands dirty, of the heights of nastiness. Adora knows she can’t handle the depths to which Catra is capable of stooping. She doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want—she wants—wants—

“No! I want you to apologize!” Adora screams, and flings her hand to the side. It catches in a bundle of cables that stretches from the computer, over the back of a chair, and into a converter. The converter tumbles off the chair, unplugging the cords and pulling them with it. All four of the DOMs light up for a fraction of a second, and then there is a horrible popping noise, and they go dark, wisps of smoke rising from the four spheres. Adora can smell something burning.

Silence. Only now does Adora notice the tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. She blinks furiously, not breaking eye contact with Catra’s blue-green eyes, which have gone wide, pupils constricting. Catra’s eyes are red-rimmed. Her gaze darts frantically around the room at the broken DOMs, the unplugged converter, Adora.

Catra says, in a wavering voice, “I thought that maybe….maybe we could be friends again.” She squeezes her eyes tightly shut, and two tears squeeze out of the corners of her eyes. “I guess I was wrong.” And then she walks out of the lab.

Adora is a statue, standing in the lab alone and surrounded by the equipment _she_ broke. It’s too familiar.

A few minutes later, she hears the sound of the door to the lab slam, and a truck drive away.

Adora slowly, slowly, walks to the door, her legs leaden columns. Feeling like she’s moving through molasses, she switches off the light, so now the only illumination comes from the window in the door.

Grabs the door handle, realizes her hand is shaking, grips it so hard her knuckles go white. Presses her forehead to the cool metal doorframe and lets her eyes slide closed. Her heart is hammering and her face is hot as she starts to cry.

When Adora was a kid, she’d moved from home to home to home, never staying anywhere for more than a couple years. There were a lot of reasons for that. She probably hadn’t been the easiest kid to deal with. She’d gone through a rebellious streak when she was ten. She hadn’t been very good at fitting in with other kids. She hadn’t been the worst foster kid, or the best, but she’d learned that sometimes it didn’t matter what kind of kid you were. She’d learned that you have to adapt fast because sometimes they don’t tell you the rules until you make a mistake. She’d learned that unconditional love didn’t really exist: Terms and conditions _always_ apply. She’d learned that being sad was a problem, that it was dangerous and made grown-ups look at her in that way that meant she’d fallen short again, that she should never let anyone see it. And she’d learned to cry without making a sound.

So when standing becomes too much, she sinks to her knees and curls forward and presses her forehead against her clenched fists, breath hot as it reflects off the floor and back onto her tearstained face. The only sounds in the lab are her occasional gasp for air as she has to refill her lungs, the soft _plink _of her tears hitting the linoleum, and the hum of computers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: “In Which They have Bad Coping Mechanisms."
> 
> Catra: Maybe if I just pretend everything is fine and like we didn’t have an explosive falling out culminating in not talking to each other for five years, everything will be fine! I don’t need to deal with these emotions at all I can just ignore them!! If Adora would just get with the picture, we could spend this winter bottling up our feelings and getting some work done! Wait, she’s not doing it….why isn’t she doing it??
> 
> Adora: Maybe if I hold onto my anger like a security blanket then I can get Catra riled up enough to verbally duke it out and I can say all those things I wanted to five years ago and she’ll just be chill about it and not retaliate! Oh look I did it and I was wrong, hurting her just makes her want to hurt me back! And this feels…bad? It doesn’t feel as good as I wanted it to to hurt someone I (used to) care about. I am sad now and everything is ruined and it’s my fault. 
> 
> ...and this had Never Happened Before.  
Also, for folks wanting more clarity/visualizations on the technical side of the ICL equipment I have some links for ya!  
[Animated diagram of a DOM (Digital Optical Module)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7r8yaAtzVQ)  
[Short video of installing a DOM in the ice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xUBCvttShfA)  
[A technical description of how the IceCube/DOMs work from the ICL website!](https://icecube.wisc.edu/news/view/467)  
Comments/kudos are my favorite things! Thanks for reading :)


	8. (when we) betray the moon

Adora stretches out her fist, and pulls back right before her knuckles hit the door. She looks at the room number, then back at a text thread with Glimmer, just to make sure she’d gotten it right. Yep, this is Catra’s room all right…

She takes a deep breath and knocks.

A few seconds later, Catra opens the door halfway. She’s blinking and bleary-eyed, and wearing pajama pants and t-shirt. She’s clearly just woken up, if her hair and the fact that it’s about 6:30 AM is any indication.

“…Hey, Catra—“ Adora begins hesitantly, and Catra immediately shuts the door.

Adora doesn’t move. A moment later, Catra opens the door again.

“I’m sorry,” Adora rushes, before Catra change her mind again.

Catra looks at Adora for a second, ten seconds, lips pressed together. She runs her hand through her hair and glances back into her dark room. Then she sighs. “Don’t go anywhere. I’m getting dressed.”

Ten minutes later, Catra comes back, now dressed in sweatpants and an Etheria University hoodie. She says guardedly, “So. Talk.”

Adora glances around. They’re in the middle of a residential hallway, early in the morning before most people are up and about. “Um. Can we go somewhere else?”

Catra shrugs, staring at a point just over Adora’s shoulder. So Adora starts walking. Catra follows, walking slightly behind her, even though the hallway is wide enough for two abreast.

They pass through the empty cafeteria, (although Razz and her sous chef are clanging around in the kitchen) and Adora gets an idea and turns left.

_Greenhouse_, the sign on the door reads_. _Adora pushes the door open and is instantly enveloped by warm, humid air laden with the smell of dirt and growing things. She opens a second glass door into the main greenhouse and walks down one aisle slowly. The light in here is an amber yellow color. She can’t help but lightly brush her fingers across the tops of the plants as she walks. Everything in here is, against all odds, _alive_. Thriving even, down here at the bottom of the world.

Catra clears her throat, and Adora turns around to face her. “So.” She says, arms crossed, chin lifted like it’s a challenge.

Adora guesses it kind of is. She takes a deep breath and thinks back to everything she’d thought about last night. “I’m sorry I’ve been. Well, that I’ve been such a colossal jerk. It wasn’t an appropriate way to treat a colleague. No matter what our…history might be.” Adora pauses.

“I got dressed for that?” Catra says, looking unimpressed.

“I’m not done. We need to talk.”

Catra rolls her eyes. “_Yeah_, obviously, you apologized, great, thanks, can we move on now?”

Adora leans against one of the racks of vegetables. Do they really need to do this— “No. About…we need to talk about what happened. Before.”

Catra’s demeanor shifts from righteous annoyance to…what? Adora can’t read her. Catra pinches the bridge of her nose. “Fuck, we’re doing this now? Ok. I’m gonna need some coffee. I’ll be back in a minute.” She exits the greenhouse, presumably going back to the cafeteria.

Adora pokes around the greenhouse while she waits. She’s too jittery to keep still, she needs to _move_. Her muscles ache to run, lift things, do something. She paces up and down the rows of vegetables, heart pounding in her ears. What if she says something idiotic and they end up back at square one? What if their relationship is irreparable, and she only discovers it now? What if it didn’t affect Catra at all and Adora’s the only one whose life fell apart? What if—

Catra opens the greenhouse door.

Well, she fumbles for the handle with her elbow, because she’s carrying two cups of coffee in her hands. Catra comes up to Adora and silently hands her one of them. _Even after yesterday_…

Adora takes the cup and sits down on the rubber-matted floor, leaning up against a rack support. Catra sits down across from her, cross-legged, fingers laced around her coffee.

Adora has no clue how to start.

## Senior year, February

### Adora

“Why didn’t you pass it back to me!?” Catra snaps once everyone else has left the locker room.

Adora clenches her jaw and strips off her uniform. They lost 2-1 against a lower-ranked team tonight. It means that if they make it to playoffs (_when_ they make it to playoffs) they’ll have to play more difficult teams early on. They’ll be more likely to get knocked out in one of the early games.

“I thought I had an opening.” Adora snaps back.

“Well, you didn’t. Since you didn’t, you know, _score_.”

“That girl came out of nowhere!”

“She _didn’t_, which I could see, and you couldn’t.” Catra glares at her.

“Fine, maybe I should have. But you haven’t exactly been trustworthy on the ice lately.”

Catra laughs, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Adora stares at her incredulously. “Seriously? Well, for starters, you’ve been letting things past you in practice. And you’ve been late to every single practice since Winter Break.”

“I can’t stop everything, you know that right?” Catra looks annoyed, “You’re just focusing on me more for whatever reason. The coaches haven’t complained about it and if you actually looked at my _stats _you’d see they’ve only improved. Stop worrying about it. And being late has nothing to do with my playing ability!”

“Yes, actually, it does!” Adora argues, “You don’t get time to warm up properly. And you haven’t been logging your workouts, so I don’t even know if you’re doing them!” She pauses, "I guess I was mistaken with the performance thing." she says reluctantly.

“You don’t know if I’m _not_ doing workouts either!” Catra says defensively.

“We are _roommates_.”

“Stop fucking micromanaging me!”

“Fine. But if you want to know why I didn’t pass to you, _that’s why.”_ Adora mutters, turning back to her locker.

“Or is it because you’re a _professional_ now, and don’t have time to pass to your teammates?

Adora whips around. “What?”

Catra stands with her arms crossed. “So I have to find out from the freaking Heartbeat that my best friend is going to the Olympics?”

Adora presses her lips together. “I didn’t even _tell _them. They found out somehow. And I didn’t tell you yet because I knew you’d be like this.”

“Like what, wanting to know about your life?” Catra asks incredulously.

Adora glares at her. “Jealous.”

“What?” Catra squawks, “I’m not _jealous_. It sucks pretty hard to know you’ve been replaced by a nosey _newspaper reporter_, Adora, can you get that through your head?”

“So you _are_ jealous.”

“Maybe you could tell me something about your life every once in a while.”

"I was going to," Adora mutters. She _was_. She just...hadn't figured out how to say it.

### Catra

“Hey Adora, come over and look at this.” Catra says, scrolling down her output. The residuals of their data seem to be taking on some kind of pattern. “Don’t you think this looks like some kind of sine wave?”

Adora scoots her swivel chair over to her computer and leans forward to rest her chin on Catra’s shoulder. Catra’s face feels hot. It’s only recently that her always-probably-more-than-strictly-platonic feelings towards Adora have morphed into something that is firmly non-platonic. Catra tries to avoid thinking about it. Obviously Adora would have _told_ her if she felt that way. But it’s hard to ignore when Adora’s breath is hot on her cheek.

“Maybe? I dunno.” Adora muses, and Catra can feel her throat vibrating when she speaks.

_Get it together._ “I’m going to run through some other datasets and see if we see the same thing.”

“Mmhmm” Adora says absentmindedly, like she’s not paying attention at all.

Catra shrugs Adora off her in annoyance (that’s _all)_. “If you’re not actually going to look at it, work on something else. We’re supposed to have a first draft to show to Cunningham by the end of the week.”

At this, Adora pushes back to her computer and leans back as far as her chair will go. “I _know_, but I can’t write everything until you finish with your analysis! I’ll have to go back and rewrite stuff.”

Catra rolls her eyes. “You just have to start it, ok? Unless you want to help me with this residuals thing.”

“_Anything_ not to work on the methods section.” Adora groans.

Catra spins in her chair to face Adora. “So then what do you think about this pattern?”

Adora frowns, still leaning back with her eyes closed. “Ummm…” she draws it out, and Catra knows she’s trying to think about it from different angles, “Ok so there could be a couple reasons. One. Instrumentation? Something about the telescope itself is expressing itself in the data.”

“Ok but why would we be the first ones to notice that?”

“I dunno, maybe nobody has done this kind of project before.”

“I doubt it. What else?”

“It could be explainable by a method that we just don’t know about.”

“Maybe. But our literature review last semester was pretty thorough.”

“True, but if we didn’t know about it then it wouldn’t have come up in our search…”

“Ummmm…I guess it _could_ be something that nobody is aware of?” Adora says, hesitantly.

That’s the idea Catra has been toying with, but she wanted to hear Adora say it herself. “That’s what I was thinking about! Wouldn’t it be cool if we discovered something new?”

Adora opens her eyes and sits back up. “Yeah…it would be. But what are the chances two undergrads discover something totally unknown? We probably missed something in our review of the topic.”

Catra protests, “It could happen! You never know! Just think,” she sweeps her hand through the air, mimicking a headline, “_Romero and Sherman discover phenomenon that is revolutionizing the Stellar Dynamics field!”_

Adora can’t help laughing at that. “It would be pretty cool!” Her smile fades, “But it would be better to make a really strong claim on something less, uh, revolutionary?”

“C’mon Adora, open yourself to the possibilities!”

“I dunno…you’re already going to grad school no matter what. What if we fuck it up and then I’m rejected when I apply next year—“ Adora’s gaze is unfocused, her mind elsewhere.

Catra sighs. If Adora was only more willing to take risks… “We have to finish this analysis anyway before we can draw conclusions.”

Adora yawns and pushes up her sleeve to look at the time. “Oh man, it’s so late. Want to call it quits for the night?”

Now that she mentions it, Catra realizes how tired she is. It’s past 1 AM, and they have 10 AM classes the next day. “Sure.” She says, and starts packing up her notebooks and computer.

“I’m going to do some running intervals tomorrow morning, want to come?” Adora asks, shouldering her backpack.

“Uh, maybe, if I’m awake when you leave.” Catra says noncommittally. She really needs the sleep, she’s been working late every night on their senior project.

Adora looks sideways at her. “You need to do your workouts. Otherwise the coaches will reduce your playing time.”

Catra raises an eyebrow. “Only if you tell them. As long as I’m keeping up on the ice, they don’t notice a difference. And I _am _keeping up.”

Adora presses her lips into a thin line, but says nothing.

Catra flicks the light off as she leaves the lab. The last thing she sees is the glow of the computers, set to crunch numbers all night. Catra pulls the door shut and heads home.

## Senior Year, March

###  _Heartbeat_ Exclusive Interview

_Etherians all across campus have heard the thrilling results of the Midwest Women’s Hockey Conference Playoff Finals, where Etheria won a decisive victory 3-1 against our arch-rivals, Eternia University. We hear in this exclusive interview with Etheria’s star player and future Olympian (Olympic tryout success story broken by yours truly, February 3), She-Ra, just what it takes to get to the top of collegiate hockey._

Heartbeat: So, She-Ra. You had a very decisive victory tonight.

She-Ra: Thank you, I think we did.

H: What was your secret to success?

SR: Well, this season I’ve really been encouraging the team to put in the extra work. I’ve always been the kind of person to throw myself into what I’m doing 100%, but not everyone views college sports like I do. Getting everyone to commit like that was a struggle, but our hard work paid off.

H: It sounds like you’ve taken on a big role on the team, above and beyond what is expected of captains.

SR: You know, I have, because I want the team to be the best we can be. I wanted us to peak during the finals, and I’m proud of every member of the team.

H: They’re lucky to have such a dedicated leader.

SR: I’ve always said that leadership is 80% hard work.

H: Speaking of which, can you tell us about joining the US National team?

SR: I’m not sure how you learned that information, but it’s true! I just signed my contract to play with the Olympic National team in Sochi. The whole process has been a lot, especially on top of captaining Etheria’s team.

H: …we have our sources. Anyway. This will be your first time playing without Catra Romero since you started at Etheria, is that correct?

SR: _she pauses_. Yes. It will be the first time. But I mean, I don’t think either of us were expecting to keep playing together after college…

H: And there are only so many spots on the Olympic team.

### Adora

“I’m gonna grab lunch, want anything?” Catra asks her, standing up and stretching.

Adora glances up from her computer and focuses her eyes on something other than the screen with some effort. “I’m ok, I think I’m going to keep working on this. I have a protein bar in my bag.”

Catra shrugs and leaves.

As soon as she’s gone, Adora pulls up a program she was running in the background. She’s been looking at a new batch of data from their recent observing trip while Catra is finishing with their previous batch. Their project is pretty straightforward: precisely measuring changes in brightness of variable stars in the Milky Way, and exploring how to combine observations from multiple smaller telescopes to get precision on par with large telescopes (which it’s difficult to get observing time on). The parameters are well established. Their advisor is essentially using them for grunt work, but as long as they get a published paper out of it, Adora is happy.

She studies the output plots. What she’s _less_ happy about is Catra’s insistence that they dig into this minor anomaly in their data. She scowls. These plots have the same pattern as the last batch, which will only further encourage Catra’s theory. Adora bites her lip. She’s about to do something that could potentially…well she just won’t think about that. It’ll be fine.

Adora creates a folder labeled “Planetary Final Analysis,” in her personal folder. Catra isn’t in the Planetary class so she’d have no reason to look in it. Then she moves the files she’s been looking at into the new folder and deletes them from the original “incoming data” location.

She pushes back in her chair and lets out a long breath. There. Without this data, Catra should be easier to convince to go with the safe, verified result as their thesis. They can spend the rest of the year perfecting the paper and it’ll go quickly through review and be published without a hitch. Adora will make sure of it. They’ll get the paper published, everything will go smoothly, Adora will get into grad school and everyone will be impressed that she published such a solid paper so early.

Just then, Catra returns, carrying a paper bag in one hand and a coffee in the other. She opens the bag and pulls out a sandwich, then waves it in front of Adora’s nose. “Smell it. They’re having this great pesto turkey sandwich right now, you _majorly_ missed out.”

Adora’s stomach twists. “I’m working.” She says, not looking up from her computer screen.

Catra huffs. “Whatever.”

### Catra

Catra yawns and rubs her eyes. She’s been going over these plots again and again, creating all kinds of tests. Every time, this pattern comes out. She’s combed through papers published about these stars, and none of them have shown this pattern, but then none of them have combined observations from multiple telescopes like they’re doing now. It seems possible that with their increased precision, they are seeing something that nobody else has picked up on.

This is what excites Catra the most about research. The feeling that you’re _just on the cusp_ of something. Like any minute, the pieces of the puzzle will reorient themselves in your head, and suddenly you know where they fit together.

Catra pulls up her browser and types, _variable star theoretical mechanics _and hits Enter. She scans the first page of results. No, no, no, hmm. She clicks the link and scans the paper, then prints it out so she can annotate it.

When she picks it up hot off the printer, she realizes it must have printed on recycled paper. It’s that interview Adora did with the _Heartbeat_ after the finals. She hates it. Hates how the reporter fawns over Adora. Hates how incredibly full of herself Adora sounds in it. Seriously? Throwing your teammates under the bus talking about how nobody works harder than her? And sure, Adora is a pretty good captain. And now Catra has figured out that she’d been pushing them so hard because of trying for the National team. But still. It hadn’t just been her who had chaffed at Adora’s heightened nitpicking and criticism. She’d almost felt like she was under a microscope the last month, Adora searching for any imperfections or drops in performance. It had been amazing to win the national championship. But the season left a bitter taste in Catra’s mouth that she hasn’t managed to get rid of.

She’s just glad the season’s over, and Adora is mostly back to normal. Well, except for this damn project.

The paper she’s printed is heavy on the theory, light on the observation, and talks about several potential mechanisms for seemingly-anomalous variable star light curves. Catra pops a link into an email and sends it to Adora. This would serve as a perfect citation for her theory.

She starts looking at the examples the author gives. Yes, the theoretical light curve matches pretty well with their residuals! She scribbles some key points, then starts translating the formulas the paper provides into code.

Half an hour later, she gets an email response from Adora. _Interesting, but this sounds like it’s totally speculative. We should stick with what we already have._

Catra groans. If Adora would even entertain the idea, they could put their heads together! Try to figure out some of the details! She sighs, and opens up a new document, copying and pasting their current working document of their thesis into it. Then she starts editing their latest manuscript.

It’s much too late when she finishes. She pops the document into the email thread and sends it to Adora before calling it quits for the night.

## Senior Year, April

### Adora

“We can’t publish this.” Adora says stubbornly. They’ve been having this disagreement for days.

Catra crosses her arms. “Really? Why the fuck not?”

“Because it’s totally unfounded!” Adora exclaims, “You found _one paper_ that was talking about _speculative theories_!”

Catra scowls. “God Adora, get the stick out of your ass. It’s not a stretch, it’s founded on the math that is in the paper!”

Adora pushes her fingers into her hair. This whole thing is stressing her out way too much. She thought the year would be smooth sailing after hockey season was over, but this paper thing has been making her anxious whenever she thinks about it. Which is constantly. She pushes back, “Yeah, and how many papers have cited this one? Zero! Obviously that means it’s not good science! I won’t put my name on this.”

Catra looks shocked. Adora has talked about wanting to get published since they were sophomores at least. She was the one who pushed to submit their thesis to journals in the first place, when it wasn’t even a requirement to graduate.

“If it wasn’t good science, it wouldn’t have gotten _published_, _and _it’s a recent paper. Probably nobody has gotten time to cite it and get published.” Catra pushes. She’s not backing down, and until now, neither has Adora. But Catra has dug her heels deep to get this paper published. _Her version_. Catra glares at Adora. “Look. You have to be an author because it’s half your research. I can’t submit it at all unless you’re an author!”

Adora is about to vibrate out of her skin. She doesn’t want the paper to be published unless it’s totally sound And that certainly does _not_ include using obscure theory papers that nobody else has ever used. Catra clearly doesn’t understand how much is at stake. If it can’t be exactly right…But if she keeps dragging her heels, it won’t be submitted before they graduate. Given how busy Adora will be with training, it’ll be difficult to do revisions. It could end up dragging past when she’ll be applying to grad schools in the fall and then she’ll have nothing to put on her applications. She takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to be first author anymore then.” She’ll just work overtime to make sure it’s as airtight as she can get it. It’s the _only_ option.

Catra’s eyes widen. Adora had practically given a powerpoint presentation about why she should be first author. She delicately says, “I thought you wanted to be first author for grad school applications.”

Adora pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to calm her anxiety. “Yeah, I know. But if this goes sideways, I don’t want my name to be first…” she takes a deep breath, “even if it hurts my chances of getting in.” There. As soon as she says it, the knot in her stomach loosens the tiniest bit. Not a lot. But enough that she can _breathe._

Catra nods slowly. “Sure, ok, whatever works for you. If you’re sure.”

“…I’m sure. You, then me, then Cunningham. That’ll be. Fine.” Adora picks up her coffee mug and goes to refill it from the coffee pot they have in here. Her hands are shaking. She grips the coffeepot tighter.

Catra looks like she’s going to say something else, but then she just nods again a couple more times. Then she grins. “I can’t believe we’re going to be published authors soon!”

Adora forces a smile. “…Yeah. It’s great.”

They submit the paper the next Monday. Three weeks later, it’s back with reviewer comments. They’re complimentary for the most part. One reviewer comments, “_If true, this method will be revolutionary.” _

## Senior Year, May

### Catra

Catra is cooking dinner when Adora gets home from the gym. Adora has been diligently training, because she doesn’t know how to take a break. And also because she’s going to the Olympics, which Catra is only a _little_ jealous about. (A lot jealous. The kind that gnaws at her when she’s falling asleep. She’s trying to get over it.)

Adora drops her bag on the couch, and then drops herself next to it. Normally, this would be when Catra would ask her about her afternoon, and Adora would ask her about what she was making for dinner, and then they’d have dinner together and do homework. But ever since they submitted their paper, things have been…tense between her and Adora.

Catra should probably feel bad for bullying Adora into submitting her version, but all she feels is excited. People will see that she’s _worth it_. Despite her grades, which aren’t quite as good as they ought to be. Despite her lack of people skills, that Adora’s so good at. All her hard work will pay off, and people will see her as an _innovator. _A promising young scientist. The kind of person you _want _to give your grant money and research opportunities to. She knows it's a risk, using such a new paper as the foundation of their hypothesis. Professor Cunningham had said so in one of their meetings. But Catra had argued that science was full of risk-taking, reaching just beyond what was established. It'll be _worth _it when everyone realizes how cool their paper is.

Her timer goes off, and she drains her pasta into a colander. Just as she’s stirring spaghetti sauce in, Adora comes into the kitchen and perches on the counter. “Hey.”

Catra glances up. “Hey.” It’s quiet. Catra shakes some parmesan onto her dinner. “Uh, how was the gym?”

“It was good. I’m a little behind where I should be with my squat weight.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Catra says dismissively. Adora works harder than god, and she’ll wow the team when she heads to the first training camp.

“…I guess so. I’m just…never mind.”

Adora’s got that look, the one where she’s overthinking every little thing for the hundredth time. Catra never seems to be able to sufficiently settle her, no matter what she says. Adora’s issues are vast, and Catra’s ability to help her is small. She does her best, but, well, there have been times when she’s lost her temper a little when Adora drove her up the wall over something she couldn’t help and didn’t understand.

So Catra just nods and starts eating her dinner.

“…is there any left?” Adora asks, looking hungrily at Catra’s spaghetti.

Catra grimaces. “Uh, no. I didn’t know when you’d be back.” Which is another thing that’s changed. They’ve always been on the same schedule, had the same goals. Now that the season is over, and Catra’s hockey _career_ is over, while Adora’s is apparently only taking off, they’re out of synch. Catra doesn’t really know what the parameters of this…drift...are.

“Shoot. Ok.” Adora says, and slides off the counter to rummage around in the fridge.

“Next time if you’re going to be home around dinner and you don’t have plans, text me and I’ll make more.” Catra says, carefully casual.

Adora mumbles, “Sure.” And continues looking for food.

Catra doesn’t get the sense she’s going to do it.

### Adora

Five days until graduation. Adora looks at the calendar with a curious mix of excitement and dread. Five days until she has a bachelor’s degree. Five days until she officially starts the rest of her life. Five days until she packs up and moves to Florida, where the Women’s National team will be training until the Olympics. Five days until she and Catra leave each other for the near future.

Adora always kind of thought that whatever they did after college, they’d do it together. But Catra’s headed to grad school, and Adora’s headed to training camp. They’ve been packing up their apartment the last few days, trying to figure out what stuff is whose. It’s surprisingly exhausting, and Adora has way more stuff than she realized considering she arrived at college with everything she owned in a couple big moving boxes.

Right now, Adora is just checking her emails. One of them catches her eye. The subject is, _Isn’t this connected to your thesis? _It’s from another Astrophysics major, in the year below her. She opens the email and clicks the link to a paper that was published…yesterday.

It’s entitled, _Addendum to “Theorizing Stellar Hydrodynamics of Variable Stars”. _Adora’s pulse instantly accelerates. “_Theorizing Stellar Hydrodynamics of Variable Stars” _is the paper they’d cited as the basis of the big claim in their thesis. She scans the abstract, and then stares into space for a minute. No. This can’t be happening.

And then she reads it again, closer this time. Increasingly frantically, she reads the rest of the short article. She slams shut her laptop and texts Catra. “_Where are you?!”_

A minute passes, and then the typing symbol pops up. “_In the lab packing up all my crap. What’s up?”_

Adora doesn’t bother to respond. She just races out of the apartment and across campus, hugging her laptop to her chest, panic pulsing in her stomach in time with her heartbeat.

She arrives at the Physical Sciences Building and takes the stairs two at a time up to the Astronomy Lab.

Catra is pulling a stack of textbooks and notebooks out of her drawer of a filing cabinet and putting them into a paper grocery bag on the table next to her, but she pauses, then puts the books down when she takes in Adora’s disheveled appearance. She frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” Adora says shortly. She opens her laptop, and connects to the printer, and prints out the _Addendum_. She marches over to the printer, snatches the paper and presents it to Catra. And then she waits, arms crossed.

Catra looks down at it, then does a double take and looks closer. Her eyes go wide. “_Shit_. Is this saying—“ She glances up at Adora, eyebrows furrowed.

Which maybe would have made Adora pause, if the frantic, unsettled, wild animal inside Adora’s chest hadn’t been tearing at its chains with every step she took on the way over here. She snaps. “_Yes_, it _is_ saying that. It’s _saying _that that special little theory you forced me to include, is total _bullshit._” She plucks the paper out of Catra’s hand and throws it into the trash.

“My little—oh that is—“ Catra sputters, “wait, _forced you?” _Her voice is suddenly sharp as a knife, eyes flashing. Her pupils are tiny points in seas of blue and green. “I didn’t force you to do _anything_. You _told_ me you were fine with it, as long as you were second author!”

Adora feels a chill at the change in tone. “I—I—“ She _had _said that. But that didn’t mean—She snarls, “Obviously I _wasn’t_ fine with it, which you’d have realized if you had half a brain! I just agreed so we could get this fucking paper published before we graduated!” How can Catra possibly see this as anything but coercion? Their paper has already been published. And her first publication will forever be overshadowed by the fact that it was disproved a month after it was published. You can’t just _undo_ that.

Catra slams a stack of books into her bag, pulls papers out of the drawer and stuffs them into the sides of the bag with no regard to keeping them unwrinkled, motions jerky and energetic. “Then you shouldn’t have fucking signed off, huh Adora?” She spits.

Adora throws her hands up and starts pacing. “You _know_ I need authorship to help get into grad school!”

“I got in just fine, you don’t _need_ a paper. Get over your freaking inferiority complex.” Catra growls.

“I do _not—_just because I work hard for every single—I _do_ need the paper! I can’t _afford_ to take a year off, so good for you that you don’t have to _worry about that._”

“Oh! You’re playing the orphan card, huh? Sorry your parents are _dead_ but you can just get a job like a fucking normal person, did you know that?” Catra is in her face now. “With your grades and internships and all that other crap you “_worked so hard” _for.” Catra’s face contorts into an angry mask. “Do you think nobody else fucking works hard!?”

“Well, yeah they do, but I put every hour I can into school! Into my future!”

Catra makes a disgusted noise, “So do I, idiot. I may not have your grades but I work just as hard as you.”

“Whatever you say.” Adora says dismissively. It’s not that she thinks Catra doesn’t work hard (maybe she does, a little bit).

“Or go pro, I don’t care, I’m positive someone will draft you and then you can play hockey to your heart’s _content_, leaving those of us who actually care about advancing the field to do the research.” Catra snarls.

“—Who actually care!? Are you insane? I haven’t worked my ass off for the last four years in one of the hardest majors at Etheria to just play _hockey.”_

“Ha.” Catra says, and then she starts really laughing, high and out of control. She pokes Adora in the chest, still smiling. Or baring her teeth. “I just don’t _get_ you, _She-Ra_. You’ve been the star player of Etheria’s hockey team since you were a sophomore. The _Heartbeat _interviews you and _only you _multiple times a year and people you don’t even _know _bring She-Ra signs to our games. You’re given the chance to play professionally, live the fucking dream, and you’re what, going to go to the Olympics and then retire and join your local beer league? Do you even _care_ how good you are?”

The static Adora feels in the tips of her fingers morphs until she only hears Catra from over the ringing in her ears. _She-Ra. _Catra means for her words to draw blood. Adora averts her eyes and leans away from Catra’s accusing finger. But now Catra has momentum.

Catra snarls, “Do you know how many girls would _kill_ to have that chance? What _I—_“ her voice breaks and she stalks over to the filing cabinet and slams her drawer shut. “_Just_ play hockey, oh that’s rich coming from you.”

Adora unclenches her jaw and angrily asks, “Why do I have a—a—a fucking _responsibility_ to play hockey?”

Catra scoffs, “What, it _isn’t_ the thing that you love more than anything else?”

“No!” Adora shouts, “I _like_ hockey. I work _hard_ because I have a freaking athletic scholarship! People are—have always _expected _me to be the best! So I have to be the fucking best. Happy?” Adora glares daggers at Catra.

“Aargh! You don’t _get _it, do you? You have _everything_! You have the perfect grades, you’re the perfect captain, the star player,” her voice takes on a mimicking quality, “_She-Ra,_ ohmygod she’s soooo perfect! Perfect, perfect She-Ra, darling of Etheria! And _now,” _Catra growls, “One tiny little oopsie happens and you’re blowing up over _this?” _She flings her hand at the paper in the trash. “Nobody is perfect. The sooner you stop expecting everyone else to be, the sooner you’ll stop being an _insufferable_ little_ fuck.”_

The static in Adora’s ears grows to a roar. She hears herself say, “Well maybe you would have _been_ those things if you actually _worked at it!_”

Catra laughs coldly. “Oh that’s rich. I didn’t work at it? Are you fucking blind?”

Everything that’s been brewing in Adora since, well, since ever rises to the surface. “You actually think you deserved a place in the top line? If I wasn’t here, you’d never have made it to second!”

Catra screeches, “And neither would you! We were on the same line because we work well together, because we play better together, do you think you’d be where you are if I wasn’t working my ass off on defense, making sure we stay in possession so _you _can score? _God_ I didn’t realize the fame had exploded your head, but how’d you even get in here? It can barely fit through the door! You wouldn’t _be_ on the National team if not for me. You’d better remember it!”

Adora steps toward her so they’re only inches apart. “If that were _true_ we wouldn’t have lost as many _games_.”

Catra turns away quickly, her shoulder knocking into Adora’s chest. “We won. The fucking. _National championship! _Is that not enough for you!?”

Adora crosses her arms. “No. If we won, then why did we lose any games? How can we be the best if we lost to teams that didn’t win!?”

_“Because_,” Catra growls, “We’re humans, Adora! People have bad days! They have midterms, and have to stay up late studying, and a thousand other things! Sometimes they do—fun things, because they’re allowed to have lives outside of hockey and school and they’re not machines! You even said so in that fucking interview, remember? That we should peak _at the finals?_ I thought _you_ of all people would realize that, but I guess I was wrong.”

Adora reels backward. There's a voice inside her head telling her that maybe she should listen to Catra. That she sounds reasonable actually. But she's in this too deep to go back now. “I _know_, but if people had focused just a _little_ more, we could have been undefeated!”

“Aaargh!” screams Catra, “do you even hear yourself? You’d better leave before you’re stuck in here sucking on your own ego for-fucking-ever! The world doesn't revolve around you, _Adora_.”

“Well guess who made the National team? _Me! _So looks like _my _way _is _better!”

Catra spits, “Fuck off. I’m done with you.”

FINE! I’ll fuck off! See you, how about never!” Adora roars, and snatches her laptop from the table. She storms out, and she’s halfway back to their apartment before she realizes that she can’t go back there. They have a week left at Etheria, and she’s never going to sleep in their apartment again.

Still fueled by incandescent rage, she packs everything she owns into her car in half an hour. Spitefully, she keeps the apartment key. Catra will have to pay the lost key fee because Adora? Adora is _done._

## Now

Adora doesn’t know how to start. But, she supposes, starting wrong is better than never starting. “…it wrecked me. Just…just so you know. We were both—“ she breaks off. She can only speak for herself, not Catra. “_I _said things. That I’ve regretted ever since. I just want you to know that—” She doesn’t know where she’s trying to go with this. She takes a sip of coffee and lets her head gently fall back against the leg of the table behind her. “Thanks for the coffee. It’s good.”

Catra just _looks_ at her, unreadable, and Adora can’t help the nervous laugh that bubbles out of her. “I don’t really know what I’m saying, um ok…”

Catra pinches the bridge of her nose. “This is weird.”

Adora sags in relief. That it’s not just her. “Ha. Yeah.”

“The paper wasn’t good enough.”

Adora inhales sharply and jerks upright again. “What?”

“The paper we cited. “_Theorizing Stellar hydro-whatever_”…You were right. It was so new, and I…I just wanted to really _do_ something.” Catra laughs bitterly. “And now I’ve published half a dozen papers and I know it wasn’t good science to just cherry-pick a brand-new speculative paper that said exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“That’s an understatement…I mean, sorry,”Adora picks at a loose thread on the bottom of her shirt, feeling a familiar stab of guilt. “I looked into it.”

“After,” She adds in response to Catra’s confused expression. “I wanted to figure out…what went wrong.” _What went wrong with _us_?_ “I, uh. I’m not proud of this but remember how I told you that second batch of data had gotten corrupted?”

“…yeah, you said it was completely irretrievable. I remember being mad about it.”

“Well,” Adora says delicately, “It wasn’t. It was fine.” Catra opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, but Adora keeps going, “I was still trying to convince you not to use the _Theorizing Stellar Hydrodynamics_ idea, and that dataset had the same pattern. I thought it would only encourage you.”

Catra’s brow furrows. “So…you hid half our data?” She snorts, “Guess that didn’t do what you wanted, huh?”

“No, you still went right ahead and pushed—“ She breaks off that train of thought. She has to let the bitterness go. Adora thought Catra’d be a lot angrier about this. “You’re not…upset?”

“I’ve just tried to forget about that paper as much as I could, if we’re being honest,” Catra says.

Adora says softly, “I tried…I never could.” She takes a deep breath. “Anyway. After we graduated, I looked into it. The full dataset.”

Catra stares at her. “You did? Even after what happened?”

Adora runs her fingers through her hair. “Hah. Don’t you know anything about me Catra? “Perfectionist” is my middle name. I was sure we must have missed something. Sure that I’d fucked our project up by hiding the data, or that it was all just random noise and you’d made a mountain out of a molehill…I had to know _why._”

“Looking for whose fault it was.”

“…Yeah, partially,” Adora admits. “I spent all my free time all the way through the Olympics the next February combing through the data. I even visited the telescopes when I had a couple days off.”

Catra raises one eyebrow.

The thread unravels some more. Adora starts tugging at it harder.

Catra knocks her foot into Adora’s, and Adora looks up at her. Catra is studying her intently, all her attention on Adora. “So, you did all this investigating. What’d you find out?”

Adora stops fiddling with her shirt. “Well, I, um…I found out what caused the pattern.”

Catra looks surprised. “Really? I’ve always wondered about that.”

Adora shrugs. “Yeah, well I guess all it took was someone obsessively studying the problem for months in all their waking hours. Which, you know, we definitely didn’t have time for in college.”

“Still…”

“Figuring out what the pattern was helped me. It helped—move forward. Sort of.” It had helped her, to know that Catra couldn’t have known, or discovered, that she was wrong. At that point, Adora had been playing the blame game a lot, oscillating between deep, bone-deep self-loathing, and being convinced that Catra had maliciously sabotaged her career. And grief had eclipsed it all, an all-encompassing tsunami of it. There had been days when she just laid curled up in bed, everything gnawing at her, feeling the most alone she’d ever felt in her entire life. Sure there was something broken inside her. She’d wallowed in her misery, marinated in it really. Let it control her entire life, for almost a year.

Adora flexes her hands and exhales slowly, trying to drag herself back to the present. She draws her knees up to her chest and stares fixedly at a paint spot on the floor. “We were combining data from three telescopes. And they all had different software to collect and format the data. But nobody had ever actually merged data like we did, and the software for each telescope used a slightly different baseline. Which nobody bothered to tell us. The pattern was the result of the interactions between those baselines.”

Catra’s legs withdraw from her field of vision, and then she’s crawling over to Adora’s side of the greenhouse aisle. She settles herself next to Adora and gently nudges her with her shoulder. “Pretty cool that you figured that out. Sounds like you’re a pretty good astronomer.”

Adora swallows, audibly, “Thanks.” She knows she has to say it or this will all have been pointless. “And I’m sorry. For everything I said that day. I’m...ashamed. I was selfish, and callous, and I didn’t even try to listen to you. And it was uncalled for, and unacceptable. I’ve never forgiven myself.” She says ruefully, “Some team captain, huh?”

She glances at Catra. Catra is watching the air circulation system gently blow a pea vine back and forth. They’re quiet.

Catra breaks the silence. She keeps looking at the vine as she says, “Me too. I knew that you always thought you had to be the best. And maybe your ego was a little big—“ At this, Adora snorts. “Don’t disagree, it’s true. But I let my jealousy get the better of me. Really, it had been getting the better of me for a long time, and it all came out at once. I knew your soft spots, and I went for them.”

She turns, but won’t meet Adora’s eyes, staring at where Adora’s fingers are destroying her shirt. “I wasn’t a good friend. I wasn’t a good friend most of that semester. After…I couldn’t reconcile what I thought about myself, with how I acted that day. How I let something like that destroy—well, destroy the best thing in my life.”

Adora deliberately stops fidgeting with her shirt (she’ll have to mend it later) and moves into Catra’s field of vision. She sits on her heels, twists and grabs Catra’s mug from behind her, and offers it to Catra. “I don’t want to fight anymore, Catra. Do you think…” She trails off. If Catra says no, it might kill her. But she _has _to try. “D’you think we can try to be friends again?” She’s so quiet by the end that she can barely hear herself. She fights valiantly to push down the static.

Catra looks down at the coffee, then up into Adora’s eyes. She takes the mug with both hands, and Adora’s heart stutters. And then she sets it on the ground next to her and gets up onto her knees too. Catra looks down again and smooths her thumb across one of Adora’s knees. Adora can’t see her expression. Finally (finally) Catra says, hesitantly, “I want to,” she looks at Adora, the barest hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “Let’s give it a shot.”

Catra’s arms lift up, and then she stops for a second. “Uh, do you want to like, hug or something?”

Adora responds by surging forward and wrapping Catra in her arms. After only a second, Catra hugs her back tightly. Adora closes her eyes and buries her face in Catra’s hair, and if she died right now, she’d be happy.

They stay like that until Adora’s knees start to protest. She reluctantly pulls back. “So…I guess it’s probably breakfast time now?” She glances at her watch. There will definitely be people around. She turns to Catra. “Uh, Angella likes to be up early, she’s probably in the cafeteria. I’ll leave first and talk to her and while she’s distracted you can sneak out?”

Catra grins and gives her a thumbs-up. She looks how Adora feels: lighter than air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! A big chapter, both in length and in content! But don't worry, there is much more to come. After all, this IS friends-to-enemies-to-lovers and we're not to the third one yet ;) but we are FINALLY resolving the enemies part thank the lord 😅I've been both looking forward to and feeling nervous about this chapter since I started writing this fic.  
Thanks for reading everyone, and as always, I LOVE hearing from y'all. Kudos and comments appreciated/valued/cherished/loved <3 <3


	9. Grant a name

### Adora

Adora is throwing a ball for Swiftwind during her lunch break when her phone buzzes. She can’t figure out why she feels anxious all of a sudden, and then it clicks. It’s Catra’s custom vibration, S.O.S.

She remembers setting it after during their freshman pre-season. Catra had said excitedly, _So you always know it’s me! _Her subconscious remembers it, even if she’d forgotten. Swiftwind trots over to her with the ball and drops it at his feet, and Adora bends down to scratch his ears. She pulls out her phone with one hand and reads the text.

_we need 2 fix the DOM’s._

A second later,

_this is Catra btw_

Then, immediately, _Entrapta could figure it out_

Adora bites her lip. Her thumbs hover over the keyboard. _Angella won’t like that,_ she finally types.

The typing bubbles appear, then disappear, then appear again. Finally, Catra texts, _then don’t tell her_

Lie to her boss? It feels wrong. Then again, they do really need to fix the DOM’s. After a moment of hesitation, Adora texts back, _ok, when can she come?_

_ this afternoon! :) _Catra responds.

Adora stares at the smiley face for a minute. She’s not sure if she’s supposed to respond. But she’s headed to the ICL anyway, so she’ll see Catra there.

“Hey Swifty, who’s a good boy?” Adora coos, and Swiftwind wags his tail and bumps his nose on her leg. “Yes, _you _are! Wanna come to the lab today?”

At the word “lab,” Swiftwind’s tail starts going even faster. He zooms to his dogbed and comes back carrying his leash in his mouth. Adora isn’t sure what she did to deserve such an amazing dog. (Anxiety attacks, that’s what. Not the point.)

“_Yes_ it’s time to go to the _lab_, oh you love going to the lab, huh!” Adora says as she clips his leash on. Then she puts booties on his feet, to keep them warm when they’re temporarily outside. Swifty’s fur has thickened up since they’ve been here (Samoyed’s were bred as sled dogs in Siberia), but his feet still need insulation.

Ten minutes later the two of them arrive in the vehicle bay. Instead of Sea Hawk though, there’s a different driver, who so far Adora hasn’t really interacted with.

They’re tall and blonde and twirling a lock of hair while leaning coquettishly against the second of the two trucks. They give a little wave as Adora and Swifty make their way between equipment and vehicles. “Well _hello_ gorgeous. Double Trouble, DT for short. Adora right?”

Adora smiles uncertainly, “Yeah that’s me. Uh, where is Sea Hawk?”

Double Trouble tosses their hair over their shoulder and slips on their coat before nimbly hopping up into the driver’s seat. “Catra asked me to drive you and Entrapta today. She said something about a…_neutral_ party being required to bring Entrapta, and Sea Hawk is working on something else.”

Adora opens the passenger side door and Swiftwind leaps up into the truck. She swings up into the cab after him and tries to think of something to say. “Neutral party? What does that mean?” Double Trouble starts the truck, and they’re headed to the ICL in short order.

DT has draped themself into the driver’s seat in a way that is the epitome of casual relaxation, despite the fact that they’re driving a multi-ton vehicle through a dark sea of snow and ice. They raise one eyebrow. “Oh, didn’t you know? I’m an independent, darling. Shadow Weaver and Angella don’t manage _me_. Sea Hawk taking you two to work every day is barely tolerable, because _you _are managed by Angella. But bringing someone else requires more, hmm, diplomacy shall we say. And,” they add, “I have been positively _dying_ to meet you. So I volunteered!”

Adora’s not sure what to say to that, so she scratches Swiftwind’s head instead.

“So,” says DT, “I had the most _interesting _conversation with Catra this morning. Dear me, it must be so…awkward to be working so closely with your ex!”

Adora sputters, “We weren’t—Catra’s not my—we were _roommates_!”

“Yes, exactly. You were _roommates_. I know how these things go. You don’t need to play coy with me, Adora. I won’t tattle to mommy.” Double Trouble says slyly.

“We weren’t girlfriends! We were teammates—best friends! We never—we weren’t.” Adora protests. She feels herself turning beet-red.

“Interesting,” DT murmurs, “Catra had the same reaction. Well, apparently I was mistaken! Although from what Catra has said, it sounds like you were _very_ close.” They peer at Adora in puzzlement.

“Nu-uh, we’re not exes, just ex—uh, ex-friends I guess. Except now we’re not, I…” Adora trails off in confusion. “We’ve made up. So now we’re trying being friends again. Starting yesterday.”

“Fascinating,” DT says, and Adora gets the distinct impression that they _aren’t _responding to what she just said. “Well, I’ll be driving you two occasionally now, so I’ll see for myself?”

With that cryptic remark, they arrive at the ICL. Adora hops out and Swiftwind jumps down beside her. She turns, “Thanks for giving us a ride. It was, uh, nice to meet you?” She feels off-balance after Double Trouble’s probing.

But Double Trouble just grins and gives her a casual salute. “Anytime, Adora. I’m already looking forward to next time!”

Adora slams the truck door and heads up the stairs into the ICL. She mutters to Swiftwind, “Well they’re a character, that’s for sure…”

Opening the door, she’s enveloped in a blast of warm air. Catra calls from inside, “Shut the door before I freeze to death!”

Adora closes the door behind her and starts de-layering after unclipping Swiftwind’s leash. He’s been here enough that Adora’s not worried about him getting in trouble. And he is generally very well-behaved. When she heads into the lab, there’s a spring in her step. Because whatever false conclusions Double Trouble may have come to, the reality is that she and Catra aren’t enemies anymore. And that’s making Adora feel like she’s on Cloud Nine.

She sobers up a little when she enters the lab and is confronted with the sight of the burnt-out DOM’s. Catra is sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of all the cables and gadgetry, an electronics toolkit open next to her and one of the DOM’s cracked in half in her lap. She looks up when Adora comes in. “Hey!”

“Morning,” Adora says, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She sits down on the floor and starts poking at some of the wiring in Catra’s DOM. “Do you understand how this thing works at all? Like, electronically?”

Catra sighs heavily, “No, but it can’t be _that_ hard. I have the technical manual.”

Adora grimaces, and lifts the DOM out of Catra’s lap and places it on the floor. Catra starts getting going sputtering, but Adora cuts her off, “You’re an astrophysicist, not an electrician or engineer. If Entrapta is as good as everyone says, she’ll figure it out way faster than you.”

Although looking around, Adora privately can’t imagine how Entrapta will salvage this mess.

### Catra

It’s true that Catra is very much not an electrical engineer. She _did_ T.A. the intro Electronics class as a grad student, so she’s probably more up to date than Adora, but she’ll admit to herself that this is far past her expertise.

There are a lot of things happening that are outside her expertise. For example, Adora, sitting cross-legged two feet away, fiddling with a DOM connector wire, relaxed and open. Adora, whose eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, a wisp of blonde hair floating into her face out of her stupid little hair poof. It seems almost too good to be true, that she wants to be friends, _real _friends. Catra kind of figured that she’d just be haunted for the rest of her life by the specter of what they could have been. That it would be the thing she’d regret the most on her deathbed, or whatever.

Catra wasn’t lying when she told Adora she was hoping they could be friends. But she’d kind of thought that if she and Adora managed it, it would be a casual, superficial thing. A going-to-work-together and talking-about-station-gossip-over-coffee kind of thing. _Catra _certainly wasn’t going to bring up their paper, or their fight, or _any_ of that stuff. She had started to think that maybe her plan wouldn’t work so well when Adora brought up all those topics she was trying to avoid, every time they started arguing.

And it finally came to a head, and Adora broke the DOMs (Although Catra is big enough to admit that it takes two to tango, and she’d been just as angry and upset as Adora).

As much as Catra hated every second of the whole being _vulnerable _thing, she’d let it happen in the greenhouse. Sure, she’d stood in the cafeteria with two cups of coffee for five minutes, resisting the urge to just _bolt_, go back to her room and lock the door and stay in there for the next four months. But she hadn’t, and she’d gone back in. And now…

Adora looks up from her DOM and smiles at her.

“What?” Catra says reflexively, “Do I have something on my face? Why are you just smiling? You look stupid.”

Adora just keeps smiling. “I just missed you, that’s all.”

Catra rolls her eyes, “Don’t be sappy.” But she can’t help smiling back.

It’s been a long two months, Catra muses as she picks up the technical booklet and starts paging through it once again. Somehow nobody had told her who her lab partner would be this winter until Adora arrived. She’s guessing it had something to do with whatever little power struggle happened between Angella and Shadow Weaver.

Last year, she’d known who her partner was because she’d known him already; he’d been a postdoc when she was in grad school. She hadn’t really thought about it much when she didn’t learn who she’d be working with this year, because Catra didn’t know what the standard was. Now it’s clear that the ICL operations have been caught in the tensions at the station for a while.

Adora had shown up at the South Pole, and Catra’s no saint; she’d definitely done some things that were uncalled for. _But _Adora had retaliated, and then _she_ had…she’s just glad they talked when they did. Adora is perfectly capable of getting her hands dirty, even though she’s an expert at justifying her behavior.

“What do you think the damage is on all this?” Catra says, looking around.

Adora grimaces, “Not great. The computer is fine, which is _really _good. But these DOM’s were custom made. It’s going to cost a lot if Entrapta can’t do anything.”

“Probably means they can be fixed though, if they were custom-made. Weren’t they put together by a bunch of people at your school?”

Adora, surprisingly, rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I got a training with them before I came down here. It was long. Didn’t you?”

Catra had not received a DOM training. But she doesn’t say so. She thinks for a minute. “Shouldn’t you be getting close to done with your PhD by now?”

Adora makes a face and sighs heavily. “If you get on my case too, I’m going to go nuts.”

“What, who else has been?” Catra’s surprised. She honestly always imagined that Adora would be the one to get her doctorate first. And even with her taking a year off, she should be close.

“Only my advisor and the head of my research team, and now apparently _Angella_, and pretty much everyone who oversees my work…”

“Oh. That sucks.” It does, and Catra knows just how hard writing your thesis is even without people breathing down your neck. “What’s holding you up?”

Adora hunches forward, carefully examining some piece she just picked up. Catra’s not sure if she’s actually interested in it, or just trying to avoid talking about this. She mutters, “I dunno, I just…it’s not ready.”

“I’ve never seen it but pretty sure it’s fine, knowing you. Your thesis doesn’t need to be the most brilliant paper you ever publish. It’s supposed to be a jumping off point.”

Adora brings the object closer to her face, turning it this way and that. “It’s not that…I don’t want people to misinterpret anything. It has to be exactly right…”

The pieces of this particular puzzle start clicking into place. Why would Adora come to Antarctica, to Amundsen-Scott station for six months right at the end of her program? If she was avoiding working on her thesis because… “You always were a perfectionist. Guess that hasn’t changed.”

When Adora looks back up, for an instant Catra sees a flash of that raw fear that she’d seen only a few times before. But Adora covers fast, and she makes an annoyed face. “People say that a lot. What I don’t get is how _they_ can just…do things, without worrying about whether everything is…correct.”

Catra opens her mouth to answer. Just then, the outside door opens with a bang.

A few moments later, Entrapta comes into the lab, her ever-present equipment bag slung over one shoulder. She surveys the room, quickly taking stock of the sorry state of this state-of-the-art lab. “What have they done to you?” she exclaims, scurrying over to them and picking one of the DOM’s up gently. “Hello Catra, hello Adora, did you know there is a dog out there on the couch?” she asks offhand as she turns the DOM this way and that.

“That’s my dog,” Adora says, “It’s okay for him to be here.”

Entrapta says distractedly, “Oh, good. He’s very well-behaved.”

“Hey Entrapta. Thanks for coming,” Catra says.

“You two really did a number on these,” Entrapta says, eyebrows raised.

Adora bursts out, “It was me. I broke them, not Catra.” Because she’s literally incapable of _not_ taking the fall whenever possible.

But Entrapta just waves her hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. Hmm, it _looks_ like the abrupt power surge and then cutoff burned out some components…yes and there is the…mmm exactly as I thought…” Entrapta continues her muttering about technical details that Catra doesn’t care to understand.

Adora gives Catra a questioning look. Catra hasn’t ever seen them interacting, and since Adora isn’t with Shadow Weaver, she probably has never really met Entrapta.

Catra clears her throat to get Entrapta’s attention (it takes a couple tries). “Do you want us to help you or something? We’re probably just going to get in your way.”

Entrapta blinks. “Oh, you’re still here. I assumed you’d wandered off already.”

Catra takes that as a _no_ and jerks her head toward the door to get Adora to follow her out of the lab. She heads to the coffeepot, pours a pathetic couple tablespoons of coffee into her mug, grimaces, and opens a cupboard to dig out a new bag. She has to get on her hands and knees and practically get _inside _the cupboard to reach the coffeebeans. “So,” she says over her shoulder, voice echoing in the cupboard, “what’d you think of Entrapta?”

Adora’s legs come into her field of vision. “Doesn’t she need us to tell her what they do or something?” She sounds worried.

“Nope. She can tell what’s going on just by looking. _Ugh_ why is there a bag of decaf back here? Who wants that? Here we go.” Catra squirms back out from under the counter, dragging a new bag of coffee beans out with her.

When she stands back up, Adora is carefully studying a step-by-step printed instruction on how to brew coffee, her cheeks faintly pink. Catra frowns, “Haven’t you already made coffee like a hundred times?”

“Oh,” Adora glances at her, “yeah, but um. I needed a refresher.”

Which is weird, but nothing weirder than normal for Adora. “Suit yourself,” Catra says as she slices open the bag and pours beans into the grinder.

Adora leans against the counter, arms folded, as Catra gets the coffee going. “So, uh, if Entrapta is just going to work on fixing everything by herself, what are we supposed to do?”

Catra shrugs, “I dunno, drink coffee? Catch up and not ignore each other? What’ve you been doing the last five years, dude?” She says artlessly. She’s not really sure how they’re supposed to talk to each other right now.

Adora laughs a little, “Oh you did _not_ just call me dude.”

“Do you have a problem with that, dude?” Catra snarks, playing along. She’s committed to it now.

“Only that it makes you sound like the bro-iest sports bro ever, _dude_.” Adora shoots back.

Catra can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of her. She forgot how much _fun_ Adora is. To tease, to laugh with, to talk to. She sets two mugs out for when the coffee gets done. “Seriously, Adora, how have you _been_? We gotta make up for the last couple months!”

They plop down on either end of the couch next to the kitchenette. Catra’s favorite couch-sitting position is to curl into one corner, feet tucked up under her. Adora sits cross-legged in the other corner, facing her. Adora makes a kind of noncommittal gesture. “I dunno, going to school? That’s basically it.”

That’s bullshit and they both know it, but Catra doesn’t call her on it. “When did you get Swiftwind?”

At the sound of his name, the dog in question perks up his ears from where he’d been dozing and trots over to the couch, sitting right at Adora’s hip. He nuzzles at Adora’s knee, and she starts stroking his head absentmindedly. “Four years ago. Pretty much right around when I went to grad school.”

Catra has a lot of questions revolving around Swiftwind, actually. He’s clearly a service dog, but Adora doesn’t have any physical disabilities that Catra has noticed. So he must be trained for some kind of invisible disability. She doesn’t want to speculate too much, because that feels sort of disrespectful of Adora and she’s not sure Adora will want to share. So she says, “Must have been a handful, getting a dog and moving and going back to school.”

Adora laughs tunelessly. “You could say that. I, uh, didn’t do so well with the transition. Swiftwind actually helped a lot.”

It must have been something to do with her anxiety. In college, it had seemed like Adora was managing okay for the most part. At least that Catra saw.

In retrospect, there were probably multiple things that Adora hadn’t told Catra about.

“Well it was a good decision if you ended up with such a sweet dog. He really loves you.” Catra is not a dog person, in general. But she’s already making an exception for this dog, who hasn’t jumped on her or tried to lick her or done any of the other things that she doesn’t like so much.

“Glimmer is super jealous,” Adora says, “but I told her that if _she _wanted to be diagnosed with anxiety and like,” she looks uncertain for a second, but carries on, “…see a therapist every week for a couple years, then maybe she could bring a dog down here too!”

Adora is acting all casual, but Catra can tell that it took effort to say that. “Love therapy,” she says, and Adora unwinds the tiniest bit. Good.

“Yeah.”

Catra waits for her to choose what to talk about.

Adora narrows her eyes at Catra. “Well, what about you? Don’t think you can get away with not telling me about you too!”

“Oh, I don’t know, I graduated last spring and started this post-doc pretty much right away. Not sure why they decided that I should be the one to come down here for six months, but I’m not complaining.”

Adora counts on her fingers, thinking. “Wait, so you must have finished your PhD in like, record time!”

“Oh, uh, I guess so,” Catra says awkwardly. She _is _proud of that. She’d worked her ass off to get to this point. And Adora doesn’t need to know that Catra had done it all with her nose to the grindstone, and when she unburied herself and looked around at her graduation, she’d realized she barely knew any of the people she’d been working with for four years.

“That’s really awesome! You must think it’s stupid that I’m having such a hard time with my thesis.”

“No! Writing a thesis is hard!” Catra protests. “Um, I could read over it and give you some suggestions sometime? If you want. I mean—” she starts to backpedal, “No obligation to, I know it can be, uh, personal, and if you don’t want to that’s fine, obviously, but, uh—”

Adora cuts her off, beaming, “I’d love that!” Which fortunately shuts Catra up from this little verbal vomit situation. Adora continues, “My advisor has read it of course, but she doesn’t have a lot of time I’m sure, so her feedback isn’t, uh, very useful sometimes, and sometimes it’s just easier to talk things out before writing them, you know?”

If Adora is feeling stuck and her advisor isn’t helping, that _is _a problem, but Catra just nods. This will be good! A neutral discussion of science is a good baby step. Although, she supposes that “neutral” science discussions haven’t stayed that way with them historically. She takes a deep breath. That was then, though, and this is now. And _now_ is a fresh start. Catra is determined not to let their past define them.

A couple hours pass, and conversation is flowing easily. Which is why her mouth apparently decides it’s a good time to ruin it.

And so, she says, “Soooo tell me about your _love _life. Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Other?” And instantly starts mentally kicking herself. This is _not_ an acceptable topic! First of all, they never talked about this kind of thing in college. And it’s way to personal to ask when they’ve just made up. But Double Trouble asked all those _questions _on the way over her this morning and apparently it was on her mind.

Adora’s cheeks turn pink, and she’s obviously flustered.

“Sorry, sorry!” Catra squawks, “You don’t have to answer! I don’t know why I said that!”

Adora bites her lip, “Well, uh—”

“I’m finished!” Entrapta crows, bursting out of the computer lab. Catra curses to herself. Entrapta really has the _worst _timing. Or the best. She’s burning with curiosity, and also dreads hearing the answer to her question. But now Adora is off the hook and Catra can stop digging herself into a hole. “This was so _fun_, come see what I did!”

Catra hops up quickly, “Yes, let’s do that! Adora!” She probably sounds slightly frantic, but she’s playing it off as excitement.

Adora blinks at the rapid conversation shift. “Oh, ok!” She gets up off the couch. “Swifty, stay in here.” She instructs.

Catra is relieved. Swiftwind’s dog hair is bountiful, and computer ventilation is delicate. Catra has secretly (and sometimes vocally, to Scorpia) done quite a bit of griping about it whenever Adora brought him into the computer lab. Partially, she’ll admit, because she was feeling resentful, but it _was _a legitimate concern.

They head into the computer lab. “Tada!” Entrapta says excitedly, and gestures at her work.

The four DOM’s are resting on various tables and chairs, cables crisscrossing between them. Their lights cheerfully blink red and blue. The computer they’re connected to is displaying a steady stream of information.

“Oh,” Entrapta says, seeing where Catra is looking, “I took the liberty of reconnecting them and doing a little…experimenting.”

She hasn’t been here _that _long, so Catra isn’t sure how she had time to fix the DOM’s and also do some recreational coding, but it’s Entrapta. She learned a while ago not to be skeptical when it comes to her skills.

Adora carefully picks her way through the maze of cords to the computer and peers at the screen. “Oh wow! This is very helpful! Thank you so much!”

“Yes, did you know you had the inputs mixed up? I thought you might not…so I straightened everything out!” Entrapta says brightly.

Catra grimaces. “No, we didn’t.”

Adora looks confused, “How did you know how all this stuff works?”

“Oh, I read technical manuals for all the instruments at the station in my free time. When I finally get my hands on them it’s like meeting old friends!”

Adora makes eye contact with Catra and quirks her eyebrow a fraction of an inch. Catra just shrugs. Entrapta is a little weird, but so are most people who voluntarily stay down here for the winter. If technical manuals are what keep her sane, more power to her. And they’d be totally screwed without her.

“We would have been _totally _screwed without you,” Catra tells Entrapta. “If Shadow Weaver found out…”

Entrapta’s eyes dart away from Catra for a second. “Yes, that would be. Bad. So good thing I was free!” She starts packing up her equipment, and a few minutes later she’s all done. She glances around at the computer lab. “This was so _interesting_. I’ve been wanting to get my hands on those for _years._”

Catra checks the time. It’s almost the end of the day, anyway. “We’ll come with you.” She messages Double Trouble. _we r done._

They like the message, and only a few minutes later, the truck arrives to take them back to the station.

The four of them head out into the cold and hurry to the truck. When Adora hauls open the door, Double Trouble immediately says, “Entrapta! Come sit next to me! I am absolutely fascinated by what we were talking about the other day and you _must _tell me more.”

“Oh, you mean the thermodynamics of electrical engineering? Yes it _is_ interesting. What part do you want to know more—”

“Just get in!” Adora exclaims, and tries to usher Entrapta into the truck faster, “It’s freezing!”

And so that’s how four people and a dog end up squished together on the bench of the cab. It’s the polar opposite of Adora and Catra’s previous carefully maintained carpooling distance. Catra feels the warmth emanating from Adora’s thigh, pressed against her own. Adora always was a space heater.

Catra tries to glance at Adora subtly, out of the corner of her eye. Adora seems engrossed in listening to Entrapta ramble on about electrical engineering. Catra looks down at Swiftwind, who is sitting between her and Adora’s knees. She holds her hand out for him to sniff, and when he seems fine with it, hesitantly strokes him on the top of his head.

Swiftwind tilts his head and pants, his tail thumping against the floor. “No licking!” Catra whispers, hoping Adora isn’t paying attention.

Unfortunately, Swiftwind is a dog, and he does in fact, manage to lick her wrist. “Ew!” she can’t help saying.

Adora, Entrapta and Double Trouble swivel to look over at her. “I’m fine!” She says, wiping her hand on her pants, “Swiftwind just licked me.”

Adora snorts. “Dog spit won’t hurt you!”

“Maybe, but it’s still wet and slimy!” Catra protests.

The dog in question puts his head in her lap and looks up at her beseechingly. He is very persuasive. “Oh fine,” Catra says, and scratches him behind the ears.

Adora glances down, _must _notice how close they are. But she doesn’t move, just says, “I thought you weren’t a fan of dogs.”

“I’m _not_. But this dog is okay,” She says begrudgingly.

Adora just says, “Mmhmm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends? FRIENDS?? FRIENDS!!  
Also first time for Now!Catra POV!  
Comments/Kudos are as always much loved.  
[I doodled Catra and Adora catching up!](https://herothehardway.tumblr.com/post/190237829708/theyre-just-chilling-on-a-couch-catching-up-like)
> 
> (repeat from chapter 7) Also, for folks wanting more clarity/visualizations on the technical side of the ICL equipment I have some links for ya!  
[Animated diagram of a DOM (Digital Optical Module)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7r8yaAtzVQ)  
[Short video of installing a DOM in the ice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xUBCvttShfA)  
[A technical description of how the IceCube/DOMs work from the ICL website!](https://icecube.wisc.edu/news/view/467)  



	10. Sharing evenings cool and quiet

### Adora

Adora closes her eyes and lets the heat of the sauna sink into her, banishing the chill. She, Bow, and Glimmer are having their bi-weekly sauna-and-decompress (and also gossip), but she’s mostly just listening to Bow and Glimmer. She and Catra are so isolated from the rest of the station at the ICL that she rarely picks up gossip that neither Bow or Glimmer have heard already.

Bow says, “So I went to the Gear Bay, because I discovered someone stashed a bunch of stuff in a bin in our lab during the summer, Glimmer. And it was all gross and mildew-y so it definitely needs washing.”

“Gross! Why can’t the summer people take care of their crap like normal people?” Glimmer complains.

Adora nods in agreement, eyes still closed.

Bow continues, “But when I went there, nobody was there. Which I thought was weird, since it was normal working hours and I’m pretty sure Perfuma works daytimes.”

Technically, there’s no night or day at the South Pole since it’s where all time zones converge. The station runs on New Zealand time officially, and most people follow the clock-time to the best of their ability. Some, however, switch their schedules around to be awake at “night” or other odd hours. It works out pretty well if you enjoy being alone, although Adora personally doesn’t see the appeal.

“And so I yelled if anyone was there, because I didn’t want to just dump all that stuff on her and Scorpia without telling them, right?”

“Always responsible.” Glimmer murmurs.

“Yeah, I do try to be! Anyway, nobody came at first. For like, a couple minutes? But _then_, Scorpia comes running out from nowhere! Which was fine, though I’d have liked to give it to Perfuma. But when I asked where Perfuma was, Scorpia was really evasive, even though she said Perfuma was just in the bathroom.”

“This sounds totally normal and not weird, Bow,” Glimmer mumbles.

Adora doesn’t totally agree, but stays silent.

“Yeah, _except_ that right as I was leaving, Perfuma _did_ show up, and she showed up out of a storeroom, and not the bathroom at all!”

“I don’t know, Bow, maybe she went to the bathroom and then went into the storeroom after? Maybe Scorpia doesn’t keep tabs on her all day?” Glimmer suggests.

“You weren’t there, Glimmer. Scorpia was acting super weird. I swear she was hiding something.”

Adora thinks back to when she’d first arrived and done the training course. There had definitely been vibes from both of them. “You don’t think they were, uh…together? When you got there?”

“No!” Both Glimmer and Bow say emphatically.

Adora is a bit taken aback, and she sits up so she can actually see Bow and Glimmer. “Ok, but I mean, that’s what it sounds like to me, and didn’t you guys say that people hook up all the time during the winter?” She continues, devolving into rambling, “Sea Hawk and Mermista are, obviously, and I think Kyle and Rogelio? They’ve seemed awfully friendly, I mean I know it’s not good to have sex during working hours, talk about a policy violation, geez—”

Bow’s eyes are as wide as saucers and he cuts her off. “But I was talking about people on the _same team._ Nobody does with people who are supervised by the other manager.”

“My mom would be _so mad_ if that happened,” Glimmer grimaces, “And so would Shadow Weaver.”

“But why does it matter?” Adora asks, frustrated.

“It’s not logical, Adora,” Bow says, “but it’s the way it is. You have to go with someone on your own side.”

“Like Sea Hawk and Mermista, like you said!” Glimmer says, “Also, Bow you totally owe me for that one.”

Bow groans. “I was hoping you forgot about it. They didn’t even last a month!”

“Speaking of which, the Mid-winter roller hockey game is coming up!” Glimmer trills, then points at Adora, “And _you _will be playing with us, attendance is mandatory.”

Adora’s heart beats faster. “The what?”

“Every Winter Solstice, we do a little friendly game in the gym! We flood it and turn down the temperature control and bam! It’s a ton of fun, and everyone comes and watches, if they’re not playing.”

“Last year it was a rough game, but this year we have you!” Bow says excitedly.

Something about it is pinging in Adora’s brain. Didn’t Scorpia say something about this, on her second day?”

“Uh…I think I promised Scorpia I’d be on her team? During training.”

Glimmer frowns. “Are you sure that’s what she said?”

Adora wracks her brain. “Yeah, I said I liked to play hockey, and Scorpia asked me to be on her team, I think.”

“Uh, you should talk to her then. As soon as possible. She probably wasn’t thinking about the station politics stuff. Or she hadn’t realized that you weren’t supervised by Shadow Weaver.”

“…I’ll do that.” Adora mumbles.

* * *

“Hey Scorpia,” Adora says when she stops by the Gear Bay the next day.

Scorpia is enveloped in a tent that she seems to be checking for holes, but the tent turns in Adora’s direction when she speaks. “Hey Adora! Just gimme—one sec—“ Scorpia fumbles with the tent, and manages to pull it off her a second later.

Adora can’t help snorting. The tent must have been static-y, because most of Scorpia’s hair is sticking straight up from her head.

Scorpia sheepishly runs her hand through her hair and pulls a hand-knit beanie on. (It’s black, with red scorpions and white-and-blue igloos stitched in.) “Yeah, there are _no_ good hair days when it comes to tent repair. What can I do for you?”

“Uh, so remember when I said I’d be on your team way back during training? Were you talking about the hockey…winter solstice…game thing?”

Scorpia’s face falls. “Let me guess. You’re here to tell me you don’t want to be on my team, because of Shadow Weaver-Angella bullshit.”

Adora scuffs her shoe against the floor. “Well…I mean _I’d_ love to play with your team, but Glimmer was saying that, uh—“

“That it might not be a good idea?” Scorpia sighs, “She’s probably right, and I’ll totally respect your decision if you play with Glimmer’s team. It would just be so _cool_ to get to play with you and I got really excited about it and didn’t think! I’m terrible at hockey, but Catra’s not, and—“

“Wait, Catra’s on your team?” Adora interrupts.

“Yep! Last time I checked! She was the only thing keeping us from totally embarrassing ourselves last year.”

Adora _was_ 100% planning on coming in here and telling Scorpia that she wasn’t going to play with her team. But now she’s waffling. She could play with Catra… “Uh, I just came to tell you that I’m not sure what team I’m going to be on,” Adora finds herself saying, “I’ll let you know closer to the Solstice, but I wanted to give you a heads up that I’m…deciding?”

Scorpia raises an eyebrow. “Well that was…completely unexpected! Okay, let me know! And, uh, if this influences you at all, usually the bosses don’t show up to watch. If you want to play with us, you’re probably in the clear.”

Adora bites the inside of her cheek. “Ok. Well, ok, sounds…good.”

All of a sudden, Scorpia’s eyes widen at something behind Adora and she says, more loudly than before, “Yeah, I’ll just pass the message along to Perfuma!” At Adora’s obvious confusion, she adds, “that patch you need done on your thermal coat! We’ve got a whole stack that need doing.” She stares at Adora, eyes wide and frantic, and Adora nods to play along, still confused.

Adora turns around to see Shadow Weaver glide into the Gear Bay, which explains Scorpia’s behavior.

“Hello Scorpia.” Shadow Weaver says, and Adora swears there’s excitement in her voice.

Scorpia blanches. “Hi Shadow—uh, Dr. Weaver. What, uh, brings you here? Do you…have something you need fixed?” She asks, hopefully.

Shadow Weaver spares a chilling glance at Adora. “This does not concern you, _Adora_. Please leave us in private.”

Scorpia is giving her pleading eyes, but Adora doesn’t really have a choice. She mouths, _sorry_ at Scorpia when Shadow Weaver turns back towards her, and hurries toward the exit, weaving in between stacks of equipment. When she reaches the door, she pauses, unwilling to completely abandon Scorpia.

She makes a split second decision, and opens the door without going through. She lets it fall closed with a thud, but stays in the bay. Then, she sneaks as stealthily as she can back toward where she’d left Scorpia with Shadow Weaver.

“…don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’ve been up to,” Shadow Weaver says as Adora gets closer. Right before Adora would come into view of the two of them, she tucks herself into a nook as far as she can, and strains her ears to hear the conversation. Or interrogation, more like.

“What? Doing? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Scorpia protests, and Adora can hear the tremble in her voice.

“Don’t lie to me, Scorpia,” Shadow Weaver says coldly, “I see you have made good progress with the gear repairs needed. It seems to me that this will only require _one_ person for the rest of the winter.” Adora can’t see what Shadow Weaver is looking at, but she definitely disagrees. The whole gear bay is full of equipment needing attention.

“Wh—what? What are you doing with Perfuma?” Scorpia asks.

“Oh, _I’m _not doing anything with her. She’s not my responsibility. You, on the other hand, _are_. And starting tomorrow, I’m reassigning you to a telecommunications technician position.” There’s almost a kind of _glee_ in Shadow Weaver’s voice, although if Adora could see her, she’s sure that Shadow Weaver would look just as expressionless as ever.

“What? You can’t—Perfuma needs me—another person! The maintenance—”

“_Night_ shift. This is final.” Shadow Weaver says viciously, ignoring Scorpia’s continued noises of protest. “I’m so glad I _caught_ you when I came in, Scorpia. Since you are starting tomorrow, or rather, _tonight_, it would have been so unfortunate if I hadn’t been able to inform you of your new position. Who knows what the consequences of skipping your job duties would have been…”

“Tonight?” Scorpia asks resignedly. Adora can hear in her voice that Scorpia is already tired, that the prospect of effectively working a double shift is already exhausting her.

“Yes, tonight. _So_ glad I was able to find you. Have a pleasant last day.”

Adora presses as far as she can into the shadows as Shadow Weaver glides past her again, heart racing. She doesn’t relax until she hears the door slam shut. As soon as she’s confident Shadow Weaver is gone, she creeps out from her spot, towards Scorpia.

When she comes into view of the (former) Gear Guru, Scorpia is on her knees with her face in her hands, shoulders heaving. Adora stops trying to be quiet as she comes up to her. She hesitantly puts her hand on Scorpia’s shoulder.

Scorpia looks up, eyes watery. “Oh, hi Adora. You’re still here.”

Adora has never heard Scorpia sound so dejected. She starts rubbing Scorpia’s shoulder. “Uh, I kinda…evesdropped on your, uh…”

“Demotion?” Scorpia says bitterly, “Like, really Shadow Weaver? It wasn’t enough to move me? You had to put me on the freaking _night shift? _That’s what they always put people on as punishment because it’s so boring and terrible._”_

“I’m sorry,” Adora says. Scorpia has always been so kind and friendly towards her, and seems to be very good at her job. She can’t imagine why she’s been demoted. “Uh, you don’t have to talk about it, but what happened?”

Scorpia swears softly. “We weren’t careful enough, that’s what.”

“Uh, _we?_” Adora asks. She has a sinking feeling she knows where this is going.

“You know…Perfuma and. And me.”

“I knew it!” Adora can’t help exclaiming, then gets a grip, “Oh, sorry. Never mind.”

“Well that makes two, because Shadow Weaver found out. Dammit!” Scorpia bursts out and pounds her fist on her thigh, “We were being so careful!”

Adora knows this isn’t the time to say that she guessed that they were involved in about two seconds when Bow brought it up. She shifts to sitting next to Scorpia and tries to think of something that will make Scorpia feel better. “So, uh, how did you get together?”

Scorpia sighs. “Well, I mean I always thought she was pretty awesome. She’s just so good at so many things! She’s kind, and funny, and I know she worries about things a lot, but she still tries to find the bright side! And you have _never_ seen someone patch a sleeping bag so fast.” She smiles, but it fades quickly. “I really tried to keep myself neutral, I _really_ did. Never took her up on her invitations to play cards or watch a movie even though I really wanted to, obviously we can’t sit together at meals…”

“So she was the one initiating it with you?” Adora asks.

“Well…I mean I wasn’t _trying_ to like, flirt or anything. I just get really excited about things, you know how I am! And I mean I always compliment my friends whenever I notice something, because my friends deserve to know how amazing they are, right? But I didn’t exactly _stop _myself from giving compliments to Perfuma. Maybe I should have.” Scorpia looks glumly at the floor. “And then one thing led to another…”

“No, listen. It’s _not_ your fault that there’s this idiotic war being waged at the station. Don’t feel guilty for having feelings for a really amazing person!” Adora says forcefully. The fact that two people’s interpersonal problems has driven the station to operate in such a dysfunctional manner is driving her nuts. “If anyone, it’s Angella and Shadow Weaver! You just got caught in the crossfire.”

“…Thanks Adora.” Scorpia says heavily. She slowly gets to her feet. “I guess I should start getting my stuff together.”

Adora gets to her feet too, angrily. “No, you know what? Don’t do that. Once you move your stuff, you’ve lost. Leave it here. Seriously, how much communication work is there in the winter at night? Probably not a lot.”

Her mind races, picking up ideas and dropping them just as quickly. “Maybe—ok what if you get Entrapta to like, rig something up in here? Redirect the communication stuff to the Gear Bay, and then you could keep doing your job that you’re actually good at, and deal with any communications stuff that comes, from here! Shadow Weaver will be sleeping, but if anyone comes looking you could pop right back to the communications office and act like you’re there all the time!”

Scorpia looks thoughtful. “You know, that could work! I’d still have to work the night shift though...”

“Yeah, but at least you’d get to do your job and not be bored out of your mind. And, you know,” Adora says carefully, “Even if you can’t see Perfuma at work every day, at least you’re working together, kind of.”

“Ooh, we could write notes?” Scorpia says tentatively, sounding slightly more hopeful.

“Yeah, just uh…be careful.” Adora says. She likes Scorpia, and Perfuma. She doesn’t want either of them to be in distress.

“Oh I will. If I fuck up again, I’m outta here for sure.” Scorpia grimaces.

So Adora leaves the Gear Bay not having accomplished the one thing she was supposed to do. She’s conflicted about what team she’ll play with. She pulls out her phone and texts Catra.

_Were you serious about reading my thesis draft?_

Typing dots immediately appear, and a second later, a message. _wouldn’t offer if i didn't mean it_

As soon as she gets back to her room, Adora opens her laptop and emails Catra her draft. She writes the subject: _Thesis draft (rough!) _then attaches the document and hits send before she can think about it too much.

* * *

A couple hours later, as Adora is just about to get in bed, her phone buzzes S.O.S.

_do u want me to read the whole thing before giving u feedback?_

A second later she gets another text. _i have some first impressions_

Adora sits down on her bed and glances at Glimmer’s already sleeping form. She texts back, _You don’t have to. _

_r u busy right now?_

Adora bites her lip. It’s pretty late already, and she’s tired, but now that she knows Catra’s already started reading it she doubts she’d go to sleep very quickly. She says, _No, meet in the reading room? 5 min?_

Adora pulls on a sweatshirt and slides on her slippers, then grabs her laptop and heads to the reading room.

The reading room is one of Adora’s favorite places at the station. Two walls are occupied by floor to ceiling bookshelves, and there are several comfy armchairs, end tables and lamps arranged around the room. It’s the perfect place to curl up and read a book, and there are tons of interesting books to choose from. Adora has already powered through a couple on Antarctic history, and she’s been eying the fiction section.

She flips open her laptop and starts skimming the first part of her thesis so it’s fresh in her mind. She hasn’t looked at it at all since she got here, and the last time she sat down to work, she barely wrote a hundred words before getting distracted by a much more interesting quiz about what her favorite fruits say about her personality. She tries to remember when the last time she really made any progress was. Six months ago? Eight?

She’s starting to wonder if maybe this whole academic thing isn’t for her. If she can’t even write a thesis, how will she succeed in a career that revolves around publishing research? The problem is, she can’t think of anything she’d _rather_ be doing. When she imagines her future, all she can see is the stars.

This dead end she’s at with her thesis feels like her brain is being suffocated under a heavy blanket. She can’t work on anything else, because in order to graduate she has to publish her thesis. But she’ll admit to herself, what she’s written is dull, interesting only to a handful of people who might try the same technique. She _wants_ to write something _big_. Something interesting to people other than Adora and her thesis advisor.

And yet, every time she thinks there might be something really cool going on, she manages to find a flaw. Something that makes the hypothesis less-than-airtight. And so she sets it aside, for another day, one in the future where she’s established herself a little more, and doesn’t have to _worry_ quite so much.

As Adora scrolls through her introduction, she has to tamp down the urge to start editing sentence structure. That is _not _what her thesis needs, and she knows it. (The real issue is getting herself to actually _work_ on the content part.)

A couple minutes after she’s gotten herself settled, Catra comes in and plops down in an armchair. “Hey! How’s it going?”

Adora sits up from her previous position hunching close to her screen. She has reading glasses _somewhere_, but always forgets them when she needs them. “Hey,” she yawns involuntarily, and blinks for a few seconds. “So, uh, how far did you get?”

Catra flips open her computer. “Just the introduction section, really. I looked at a couple of these figures too.”

Adora _was _ready to go to sleep just a few minutes ago, but now her heart is hammering in her chest and she sits on her hands so she won’t start tapping her fingers obnoxiously. “…And?”

Catra looks up from her computer. “So basically, this is our thesis, part two.”

“Wh-wait, what?”

Catra sighs and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, you’re using observations from IceCube and a couple other neutrino detectors to get a more sensitive combined dataset. Just like how we used data from a bunch of telescopes to increase sensitivity.”

Well, I guess if you put it like that, sure, but there’s a lot more to it!”

Catra puts her hands up. “Woah, no need to get all defensive about it! It’s not bad, I was just noticing.”

Adora scoots to the edge of her seat, hands still sandwiched under her thighs. “Okay, so what?”

“Well, it looks like this is mainly a methods paper? I mean I haven’t read the whole thing, obviously, but that’s what it sounds like from the abstract and introduction. There’s no…I don’t know, results?”

“Yeah, it’s talking about how to mesh the data sources for maximum sensitivity, to pick up lower energy neutrinos.”

“Right. So, uh,” Catra trails off, eyes darting to the bookshelves and back to Adora. “Okay. I don’t want to like…bring up bad memories. Um.”

Catra stands up. Then, she sits down. And immediately stands back up again and huffs a little. She comes over behind Adora’s armchair and bumps her hip lightly against Adora’s shoulder. “Open your computer back up.”

Adora glances back at Catra before doing so. “Uh, okay? I mean, you have the whole document too—“

Catra sighs. “I _know, _obviously I don’t want to look at your thesis. Bring up your plot code for figure 1 and 2.”

Adora grumbles as she opens the folder with all her plotting code and outputs, and pulls it up. “Do you want me to run it, or…” She trails off.

Catra bends over to get a closer look. Her hair brushes the side of Adora’s face, and Adora takes an ill-advised inhale, curls tickling her nose. Catra’s arm is touching her shoulder, and Adora’s cheeks are hot. “Uh, wasn’t trying to get suffocated by hair today.” She laughs, and it comes out a bit strangled. She clears her throat.

Catra glances over. “Oh, sorry,” she says, and fishes a hair tie out of her pocket and twists her hair into a topknot. Adora doesn’t know if she’s relieved or disappointed.

“So why did you outlier all that data?” Catra says, leaning back over and pointing to a section of Adora’s code.

Adora shifts uncomfortably. “Well, I thought it would distract the reader from what I’m trying to show. Big spikes from neutrinos are cool, but what I’m demonstrating is a lowering in the baseline sensitivity,” she says, and in response to Catra’s narrowed eyes, “and look, before you say anything, I mentioned it multiple times in the methods section. Which you haven’t read yet.”

Catra sounds incredulous, “So you, what, just ignored all the actual neutrinos? Is your focus instrumentation?”

“No, observation—“

Catra groans and straightens up. “Ok this isn’t comfortable, hang on.” She sits on the back of Adora’s chair, and when that apparently isn’t working, she slides down until she’s sitting on one armrest, knees still hooked over the back of the chair. She cocks her head. “Why isn’t there any observational analysis happening here, then?”

“I—well, I…” Adora trails off. Catra is right. (Catra is right _here_. Practically in her lap.) “Ok so—so why didn’t my advisor mention this _apparently _glaring issue?”

“I dunno, maybe you should get a different advisor,” Catra says flatly.

It _has _crossed Adora’s mind before. Her advisor hasn’t really been the most involved. Adora sees her once a quarter, and tells her what she’s been working on, and her advisor gives her a couple suggestions. That’s it, really. Adora had wanted to study neutrinos and high energy astrophysics, and her advisor was involved in that research, so she’d just gone with it. “This is a methods paper though. It doesn’t need to have a big observational finding. That’s what she said, anyway.”

“How are you validating your results? With the neutrino detections, right?”

“Yes, which I do talk about, _later in the paper.”_

“Ok so I have to read the rest of the thesis, I _know. _But I still think what I’m saying is important.” Catra tries to twist around to look at Adora’s laptop screen again, but she’s really not in a position to do it now. She struggles for a second, then balances on her butt and swings her legs over Adora’s head, over her laptop, and down between Adora’s calf and the chair. She tries to lean to see the screen better, and in the process, she sort of slides off the armrest and half into Adora’s _lap_.

Adora swallows. “What are you, uh, doing?”

“Trying—“ Catra tries to wiggle her butt down to the seat, but Adora’s hips are too wide, and this chair is too small, to allow it. “—to get a closer view—of your computer—“

Adora can’t help cracking a smile. “You’re ridiculous. We can’t both fit in this chair.”

“It’s the chair’s fault,” Catra grumbles.

“This is stupid. I’m sitting on the floor,” Adora says, and with some effort, gets up and out of the armchair, then sits back down with her back to the seat cushion.

Catra now has the whole chair to herself, which she’s probably happy about. Adora balances her laptop on her knees so Catra can see too. Which has exactly the same problem as before, because Adora can feel Catra’s breath on her neck as she leans forward to see better.

“Ok can you run it without removing that data?” Catra asks.

Adora’s focus is kind of skittering around her brain, wanting to analyze how Catra’s knees are pressed against her back, trying to actually think about Catra’s comments, and also just trying to stay awake. She’s too tired for this.

“Adora?”

Adora blinks and shakes her head a little. “Sorry, I’m pretty tired. Um, here?” She does the edit and generates a plot just like the one in her thesis, except all the neutrino detections are now included.

“Yeah,” Catra breathes, and shifts position so that she can look even closer.

Adora actually has done an analysis of the apparent low-energy neutrino detections. It’s not in her thesis, but it’s been done. She tries and fails to suppress another yawn.

Catra looks at her and raises an eyebrow. “You really were about to go to bed, huh?”

Adora nods blearily.

Catra bites her lip, “Okay, let’s continue this tomorrow or something. I’ll read the rest of the paper.”

Adora finds herself nodding, and stops. “Uh, ok, I have something else I’ll send you though. It’s analyzing the probable neutrino detections. You can read it after, if you want.”

It’s not part of her thesis, but maybe it’ll answer Catra’s questions about the observation stuff. Adora gets to her feet and stretches her arms. “Man, I need to work out. My body has been feeling out of whack lately.”

“…yeah!” Catra says in a weirdly squeaky voice.

Adora frowns at her. “What? I need to work out? Do I look out of shape?”

Catra clears her throat. “Um. Nope! You’re definitely in shape!”

Feeling kind of self-conscious now, Adora tugs her shirt down. “Ok. Well, I’m gonna go to bed now! Uh, goodnight!”

She hurries back to her room, clutching her laptop to her chest. Her stomach is all fluttery for no reason, but it’s not anxiety. And that wasn’t so bad, was it? Catra has some criticisms about her thesis, but they _weren’t, _“This is stupid, why are you doing this?” And Adora has something to think about, too. Even though Catra hasn’t read the whole thing yet, what she said about it was…actually pretty helpful. Why _isn’t _she including the neutrino analysis?

After Adora hops in bed, she opens her laptop again and sends another email to Catra with her analysis. Subject: _Side Neutrino Analysis._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Scorpia and Perfuma! Somewhat shockingly, I think this is the first significant appearance of Shadow Weaver. What will happen with this whole hockey game thing? And oooh late night thesis critique! 
> 
> Thanks for reading y'all! Also, I'm really not sure what the final chapter count on this will be, but definitely not 15 (my original estimate.) So I'm changing the chapter count, but know that it's not really set in stone exactly how many chapters there will be. :D


	11. all that was shown to me

### Catra

“Hey Adora,” Catra says casually while they’re working in the lab, although her heart is beating harder than it should be. She remembers Adora’s words way back at the beginning of the winter. And even though things are going better now than she could have dreamed, and she’s _pretty_ sure Adora said it just to get in her head, there’s still a frission of nerves across her skin when she asks, “I have the kitchen reserved this evening to do some, uh, baking…want to join?”

They haven’t done anything that’s just…spending time together outside of work hours. Catra’s not sure if Adora wants to. Helping Adora with her thesis late at night is one thing. And what if Adora doesn’t want to, or what if she already has plans, this is kind of last minute and Catra really didn’t think this through enough—

Adora glances up from her computer and says, “Sure!” without a pause.

Catra sags, ever slightly, in relief. Her voice is a little wavering when she says, “Great. I—we have it at 8 PM, once the chefs are done and it’s just dish crew left. But they’re in the dish pit, so uh, so we have the place to ourselves.” Catra swallows hard. And maybe this wasn’t such a good plan after all. It’s hard enough to keep her thoughts corralled when they’re working….

But Adora is now grinning and positively buzzing with excitement. She’s like a fucking golden retriever or something. “Wow you’ll have to teach me how to make…whatever you’re making! I haven’t gotten better at cooking like, at _all_.”

“Well this is baking, so who knows? You might not be a total disaster.” Lord help her.

* * *

Catra hauls the bags of flour and salt and sugar out from the walk-in pantry. Razz has told her half a dozen times that she can help herself to anything, as long as she doesn’t use an excessive amount of it. Plus, she always leaves a plate of whatever she made for the cooks, just to make sure she stays in their good graces.

Last year, she’d gotten into a bit of a pickle early in the season when she’d been caught trying to make pancakes on a hotplate in her room. (Shadow Weaver had been, well. Terrifying. Catra thought she was going to be fired on the spot.) Razz had marched into her room, interrupting Shadow Weaver’s tirade and Catra’s cowering. She’d whacked Shadow Weaver with her spatula. _What this girl needs is a kitchen. Come with me, dearie, _she’d said, and grabbed Catra’s hand and hauled her up with surprising strength, leaving Shadow Weaver in the dust.

She’d dragged Catra through the cafeteria and into the kitchen, which was full of people since it was breakfast time. Razz had brushed their attention aside like so many cobwebs. _I am going to give you a tour now, _Razz had said, squinting at her through her giant glasses. _And then we are going to work out a schedule of when you can come cook in here. Or, _she studied Catra, _Bake, yes. You are a baker, aren’t you dearie?_ Catra had just nodded, still cowed by Shadow Weaver and now this ancient, tiny, force of nature.

Razz had seen right through her in a second. When Catra had been busy falling to pieces, she taught herself to bake. She’d been watching _The Great British Bake Off, _the summer after she graduated to try to prevent herself from wallowing any more than she already had. Or to make lying on her bed without the willpower or energy to move, feel interesting at least. And when they’d done the breads episode, she’d started thinking. She could probably do that. It didn’t look that hard. So she’d looked up a recipe for a basic loaf, and tried it.

The first loaf had looked…sad. Underbaked, as Paul Hollywood would say, and flat and dense. But it tasted _amazing_. So Catra had kept trying. She’d let her fixation envelop her in a cloud of flour, trying new recipes for specialty breads every week, and continuing to work on her basic whole-wheat loaves. When she emerged from the haze of breads, it was four months later. It was four months later, her fellow grad students and professors loved her for bringing in all her creations. She’d become quite a proficient baker, although she was always trying to improve. And she’d gotten past the worst of her grief. (Ok not past it, but figured out how to tiptoe around it enough that she could at least _act_ like she was okay.)

Bread could take her anger, her frustration, her sadness, and come out of the oven perfect, with a nut-brown crust and moist, latticed inside. It came out _better _when it was kneaded with more force. Making bread made her feel better, more grounded. Whatever she’d been feeling when she started, through kneading and forming and waiting for the dough to rise, she let it go, and when she sliced open her loaf of bread, it felt like a goddamn miracle. Even hockey hadn’t been like that.

“Pretty neat gig you’ve got going, huh?” Adora says, interrupting Catra’s reverie, and she realizes she’s just standing in the middle of the kitchen.

Catra glances around. She’s got ingredients piled on the counter, a couple pans out, and she’s wearing her favorite apron, the one that says “_I do what I want_” and has a cartoon cat on it. She shrugs, “Yeah it’s ok. It’s nice of Razz to let me use everything.”

Adora leans against the doorframe and smiles, “Well, where shall we start, Chef Catra?”

“First,” Catra says, and digs around in a drawer, “You need an apron.” She tosses a bundle of fabric at Adora, who catches it and puts it on.

“Next—“ Catra starts, then cuts off abruptly. She’d fed her sourdough starter early this morning, before she decided she was going to ask Adora to join her. She drifts over to the pantry rack where the starter has been fermenting, feeling suddenly nervous.

“…next?” Adora prompts, and when Catra still doesn’t respond, she follows her into the pantry and asks again, “Next we do wha—oh.”

Because Catra has pulled her starter out from behind some boxes of dried fruits. And the bowl the starter is in, the bowl that Catra has used to mix dough since she learned to bake, is…

“That’s my—my grandma’s bowl.” Adora stutters. It is, in all its glory. The multicolored glaze is just as shiny and vibrant as it was five years ago, when Catra came home to an upturned apartment with Adora’s presence completely removed. She’d only found it when she’d packed up the kitchen a couple days later (and a stupid bowl had the power to bring her to her knees, sobbing on the kitchen floor). And then, well, it _was_ the perfect size to mix dough in. And it wasn’t like she could give it back to Adora. That’s what she told herself.

Catra clutches the bowl against her stomach, feeling suddenly possessive. “You left it. So I, well it was the perfect size to—to make bread…” She should tell Adora she can have it back. She should _tell_ her. This would be the perfect time. But she _can’t._

Adora isn’t looking at the bowl anymore though. She’s looking at Catra, really _looking _at her. Like she’s thinking about why on earth Catra has been using this bowl to make bread for the past five years. Catra feels pinned in place, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t been expecting when she’d invited Adora into her space.

Adora makes a little gesture, like she was going to put her hand on Catra’s shoulder and decided not to. Instead, she lifts the bowl out of Catra’s hands. Catra grips it tighter in a moment of panic. “Hey, what are you doing?”

Adora wrests it out from her grip and sets the bowl on the counter. “I mean, are we going to bake something or not?”

Catra relaxes, then scoffs, “Obviously we’re baking something. English muffins.” She pulls up the recipe on her phone and squints at it. “These will be so good in the morning.”

“You realize that we’re provided with breakfast, right?”

“Sure, but it gets boring.”

“More boring than bread.” Adora says, incredulous.

“Bread isn’t _boring_, Adora, learn some sophistication,” Catra snaps.

Adora crosses her arms. “Really. I see like, three ingredients.”

Catra takes a deep breath. Adora doesn’t even know how to cook, she’s not going to automatically understand bread. She’ll have to learn. Catra has to _teach_ her. “There is so much more to bread than ingredients.” She slides the bowl of starter over to her and unrolls the top of the flour bag. “Can you grab that measuring cup for me?”

Adora hands her the measuring cup.

Catra starts measuring flour and dumping it in the bowl. “Can you get the milk out of the fridge?” Adora does, and Catra continues, “This, for example, is sourdough. Do you know why it’s different than other breads?”

Adora wrinkles her nose, “Uh…it’s um. Sour?”

“…Basically. This goopy dough in my—in the bowl, that’s the yeast.”

“Doesn’t look like any yeast _I’ve_ ever seen,” Adora says, leaning down to look at the starter more closely.

“It’s _wild_ yeast. It’s kind of like a…pet, or something. I have to feed it, for it to stay happy.”

“Weird,” Adora comments.

“Can you add a teaspoon of salt?” Catra says, looking at her phone again.

Adora measures the salt and pours it in, while Catra does the rest of the ingredients. She stirs together the dough until it’s mostly incorporated, then picks up the whole ball of dough and plops it onto the counter. “Ok,” Catra says, “Now you’re going to knead it.”

Adora frowns. “What? Why do I need it?”

“_Knead_. Like this.” Catra demonstrates, pushing the heels of her hands into the dough and folding it over itself. She rotates the dough a quarter turn and does it again. “See, you’re just like, mixing it.”

Adora watches her hands intently, and after demonstrating a couple more times, Catra scrapes as much dough as she can off her hands and hops up to sit on the counter. “Now your turn.”

While Catra eats extra dough off her fingers, Adora takes her place at the counter.

Adora pokes the dough cautiously.

“Just try it. There’s really no wrong way to knead.”

Adora cups her hands around the dough, like it’s a delicate thing. She sort of squishes it with her fingers.

“Not like that,” Catra snorts, “Put some oomph into it.”

Adora pushes the heel of one hand into the dough, then takes it away. Her hand is covered in dough. She wrinkles her nose. “Is it supposed to be this sticky?”

Catra says encouragingly, “Yeah, just like that! The more you knead it, the less sticky it’ll get.”

Adora tries again, this time with both hands, and does it more forcefully.

“Yeah! Ok now fold it over and do it again.”

Adora does. “So, how long do I have to do this?”

Catra shrugs, “Five minutes? Until it’s elastic. Just keep going until I say stop.”

Adora snorts and mutters, “That’s what she said.”

Catra smirks. “What are you, a middle schooler? People in their twenties don’t say that.”

Adora just grins, sticking her tongue out in concentration as she kneads. “Still funny though.”

Catra gazes at Adora’s hands kneading the dough. Adora’s hands are strong, and once she gets the hang of it, they move gracefully. Adora is clearly focusing all her attention on getting this right, and isn’t that exactly like Adora? To want to get it just _right_, even though most things she could do to it would result in decent bread. At least with Catra here to supervise (There had been many Adora-fueled cooking disasters in college).

Catra kinda wants to do something to mess with her, which is an impulse that has been a constant in their relationship from the start. She loves teasing Adora, because Adora always gets so_ flustered_, over _nothing_. If she picked off a piece of dough, Adora would probably be like, _Hey, what about the English muffins? _She could get off the counter, and act like Adora needed help kneading, really get in her space. That would be a sure way to make her turn beet red.

But Catra does none of those things at the moment, because honestly, she has no fucking clue how to be just…normal friends with Adora. She’d been mad at Double Trouble when they’d suggested that she and Adora were an item, in college. Because it _hadn’t been like that_. They’d never done all that couple-y stuff. Never even kissed, even though there were times when Catra hadn’t been able to get the thought out of her head. But DT made some good points. And yeah, they’d been pretty touchy feely, in college. But how much of that had Catra instigated, had she allowed, because of her inconvenient and ever present, not-strictly-platonic feelings? Too much.

And so here she is, completely unsure about what the boundaries of normal best friends are. She’s not kidding herself and saying that she and Adora are suddenly _best_ friends now. That kind of thing doesn’t happen overnight, but they _had_ been best friends before. So she’s doing the best that she can.

She’d forgotten, a little, the other night in the reading room. She _thinks _she was way too touchy, and although Adora hadn’t seemed to mind, today she’s erring on the side of caution. Obviously she can’t talk to Adora about it, because then she’ll have to talk about why she wants to talk about it. Which she doesn’t even want to _think_ about.

Catra realizes she’s been zoning out, just staring at Adora’s hands kneading the dough. Not weird at all.

Adora pauses in her kneading, and says a little breathlessly, “Is this enough?”

Catra swallows. “Um. That’s uh—probably good enough.”

The ball of dough is now smooth and firm, and Adora’s hands are mostly free of dough, just like she’d said they would be. Catra tears a piece of the dough off from the ball and pulls it apart gently between her fingers. “Look, see how you can see light through it without the dough getting holes? That means the gluten has done its job.”

Adora raises an eyebrow. “Huh! Now what?”

Catra jumps down and puts the dough back in its bowl. “Now, we let it rise.” She opens the oven, which is still a little warm from being used during the day, and slides the covered bowl in.

“How long do we have to wait?” Adora asks, following her over to the oven.

“This oven is pretty warm, so like an hour? Until it doubles in size.”

Adora’s eyes widen. “An hour? Wow! What are we going to do for an hour?”

Talk? Tease Adora about her cooking abilities? (Even though she’d done well enough kneading.) But anyone could come into the kitchen at this hour. “Want to—“ Catra cuts herself off before she can invite Adora over to her room. There’s a bulleted list of reasons why that would be a bad idea, the least of which being that there are eyes everywhere. She heard what happened to Scorpia and Perfuma, even if she kind of thinks they were stupid for letting it happen. She bites her lip. “Hate to say it, but _we_ aren’t going to do anything. No point in risking things when we’re not even actively baking.”

Adora looks unhappy about it, but says resignedly. “That’s smart, I guess.”

“I’ll stay here and keep an eye on the dough. I’ll text you when it’s ready for the next step.”

Once Adora leaves, Catra slumps. She didn’t actually _want _to send Adora away…

Her phone buzzes. It’s Adora, she knows without looking. _Is it done yet? :)_

Catra looks at the smiley face. That’s a first for Adora. She texts back, _not yet, dumbass_

### Adora

Adora drifts back to her room, walking and texting Catra. When she gets Catra’s text back, she smiles, and can’t stop.

When she gets back to her room to find Bow and Glimmer watching a movie on Glimmer’s laptop, Glimmer narrows her eyes at her. “What’s got you smiling so much?”

“Oh, uh, nothing!” Adora says, but she only stops with some difficulty. “What are you watching?”

“The Thing,” Bow says, and shivers.

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “C’mon Bow, we watch this every year. This is even the second time this winter!” She pauses the movie and addresses Adora, “I don’t know if you went, but they do a screening every year at the beginning of the winter season.”

A chill goes down Adora’s spine and she grimaces, “No, I went…”

Bow snaps the laptop closed. “See, Adora doesn’t want to watch it, we’re not going to subject her to it!”

Glimmer groans, “It’s a classic, how are you so scared after seeing it so many times?”

“It’s super creepy, that’s why!” Bow says.

Adora pulls out her phone and texts Catra again. _Done yet?_

_oh my god adora, be patient, _Catra responds. A couple seconds later, she gets a picture of the dough in the oven, clearly still mostly flat.

Bow raises his eyebrow. “Who you texting?”

“Uh…” Adora wracks her brain for something innocuous. “Angella! Letting her know…uh, my…progress?”

Glimmer wrinkles her nose. “You’re telling me you’re texting my _mom? _At like, 9 PM?”

“Yep! That’s what I’m doing!” Adora says with too much enthusiasm.

“You don’t have to lie, Adora,” Bow says. He and Glimmer exchange a loaded glance, and Adora squirms.

“So! Tell me about your cruuuuush!” Glimmer squeals, shoving her laptop to the side.

“What!?” Adora yelps, “What are you talking about? I don’t have a—where would you get that idea?”

“Oh c’mon, it’s about time anyway,” Glimmer says, “Almost everyone at the station is hooking up with _somebody _by now.”

“I, uh, I’m not…hooking up with anyone.” Adora says, blushing, and Glimmer seems disappointed.

“Ugh, I’m so _bored_. Drama sustains me, Adora!” Glimmer asks more seriously, “Has anyone caught your eye?”

“I mean, I’m just at the ICL all day with Catra. And I’m with you guys almost all the rest of the time…” Adora says.

Glimmer taps her fingers against her chin, thinking. “Hmm, I bet we could set you up with someone…”

“Oh! Uh, I’m…good.”

“Are you sure? Pretty sure half the station would be down if you asked.”

Bow scoffs. “_More_ than half the station, let’s be real Glimmer. Like, anyone who’s attracted to women.” He looks thoughtful, “and maybe a few that aren’t, honestly.”

Adora laughs a little, “I think that’s a _big _exaggeration…”

“It’s not,” Bow and Glimmer say in unison.

Adora snorts, and then sighs and slouches down on her bed. “It’s not really that simple.”

“Why not?” Glimmer asks.

Adora hasn’t exactly talked about this with anyone before, but she’ll give it her best shot. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest. “Um. Well…hooking up just hasn’t ever…I dunno, appealed to me? I, uh, I know I’d get really stressed out and it wouldn’t be fun. Just thinking about it in theory already stresses me out. So I just, haven’t. Don’t.”

Bow asks, “So, are you like, asexual?”

“Uh, I don’t think so. I mean, I think I just don’t feel…sexually attracted to people unless I know them really well? Maybe if I hooked up with a really good friend it would be good…” she trails off.

Bow raises his eyebrow. “I guess that makes sense then. You haven’t really known anyone here for longer than a few months.” He pauses, and glances over to her dresser. “Well, except Catra.”

Adora flushes, and her voice cracks when she says, “Uh, I guess so?”

Glimmer looks slowly back and forth between the framed photo on Adora’s dresser, and Adora. She raises an eyebrow, then slowly says, “How many people have you had a crush on? Be _honest._”

Adora flushes. “Um. One?”

Glimmer narrows her eyes. “Who?”

Adora’s phone buzzes, and she practically leaps out of her bed. “Sorry, I gotta—take this—gotta go! Bye have fun with the rest of the movie!” She squeaks, and hightails it out of the room as fast as she can.

“Wait, Adora! You don’t need to lea—“ Bow’s voice is cut off as the door shuts.

She pulls her phone out the instant she’s in the hallway. It’s another picture from Catra, this time with her making an exaggeratedly excited gesture at the dough, which is slightly bigger than before.

Adora grins and texts back, _Bored or something?_

She takes her time, but she walks back to the kitchen. When she gets there, the lights in the dish pit are out, and Catra is sitting on the steel counter next to the oven, looking at her phone. She glances up when Adora comes in.

“Thought I told you it wasn’t a good idea to hang out?” Catra says.

“There’s nobody here anymore,” Adora replies, poking her head into the darkened dish pit. “Unless you want me to leave?”

Catra looks up from her phone quickly. “No! Stay. I mean—” Catra readjusts, leans back on her hands, “What else are you going to do at this hour?”

Adora comes up next to her, leans on the counter and lists on one hand, “Read a book, play with Swiftwind, go to the gym, work on my thesis some more, watch The Thing with Bow and Glimmer…”

“Ugh, fine, I get it. Why not do those things instead?”

Adora shrugs, “This seemed like a pretty good option at the time? Now you’re making me want to change my mind.”

“I mean, we could totally talk about your thesis if you want to.” Catra says, and Adora stands up straight.

“Sure?” She says, turning it into a question on accident.

Catra crosses her knees and says without preamble, “I read that little neutrino analysis you did. Why the _fuck _isn’t it in your thesis?”

“Be—” Adora stops. She walks to the pantry, pivots, and walks back to the oven. Pivots, walks back to the pantry. “It’s not—what would I even say about it?”

Catra furrows her eyebrows. “Um, you’d include that whole thing. You have conclusions about the data right in the document.”

“But it’s so new…I dunno, I was going to hang onto it until someone else publishes something similar and then publish it as confirmation.” Adora says, continuing to pace.

“So you think someone else will find the same thing.” Catra says flatly.

It’s not a question, but Adora answers anyway. “Well, yeah.”

Catra lets out a long sigh. “You’re going to have to walk me through this, because you’re not making sense at all. _Why_ isn’t this part of your thesis?”

Adora is walking faster now, practically marching between the pantry and oven. “If I put it in my thesis, it’ll be tied to the rest of my thesis, which is actually useful to people and is totally airtight. My thesis builds off other well-established work, my extension is small.” She paces, shoulders tense, “Right now it’s practically risk free. _Because_, it could be wrong, Catra!” She says, more forcefully than she’d meant to, “I can’t do that again!”

Adora grinds to a halt in front of Catra.

Catra groans, “You’re just _scared_, Adora. You clearly hate your thesis right now, and it’s the only thing between you and your degree. So you’ve run off to Antarctica to keep avoiding it, and in the meantime, done work that could be its own separate thesis if you wanted it to be! _Clearly_ it isn’t a problem of your ability! It’s your own damn fault!”

Adora sputters, “I’m not _avoiding_ my _problems! _Getting six months of experience with instrumentation will be good for applying for post-docs!”

“You always avoid your problems, it’s what you do! This will only be useful if you actually finish your thesis! Look,” Catra says, clearly frustrated, “I’m not actually trying to get you all…” she waves her hand at Adora, at her flushed face and her tense shoulders and her pacing, “all worked up over this. But clearly you need to figure this out. If you don’t want my help, that’s fine. I won’t offer it.” Catra slides off the counter and opens the oven.

It feels like a dismissal, but Adora doesn’t move. Catra takes the bowl of dough out and sets it on the counter, and closes the oven door with a bang. She’s tense, movements jerky as she dumps the now risen dough out on the counter and folds it over itself.

Once again, Adora has botched things because of her own _issues._ Stupid, stupid, _stupid. _ She walks back to the pantry, running her hands through her hair. Which completely destroys her meticulous ponytail. She slides the elastic out and starts sweeping her hair back up in frustration. She takes a breath, lets it out slowly, then does it again. She faces the pantry, back to Catra. “I do want your help. I’m…not good at taking criticism.”

“Obviously,” Catra mutters.

She turns back toward Catra, “…I still want to learn to make English Muffins?” Adora says tentatively, hopefully, “if you still want to, um, teach me?”

Catra is standing at the counter, back to Adora. Her hands are still, no longer doing whatever she was doing with the dough. Her head is bent down toward the ball of dough. Adora can’t see any part of her face.

“I did just want to hang out,” Catra says quietly, “sorry I brought up your thesis. That’s not a very…light topic. And we don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to, uh, papers.”

“I shouldn’t have raised my voice,” Adora says, “It’s not your fault I’m freaking out about it, or that I’m…a, uh, perfectionist.”

Catra lets out a long breath, and then she turns around. “Well now we have to form them. If you want to.”

Adora moves beside Catra and looks at the dough. “…Ok how do we do that?”

Catra shows her how to tear off a piece and roll it around in her hands into a ball, then flatten it a little between her palms. Sitting on the pan, Adora’s english muffins are noticeably more misshapen and unpracticed-looking than Catra’s, but they’re all the same dough, so they should still taste good at least.

“Now we let them rise again,” Catra says.

“Again?” Adora asks, surprised.

“They need to develop all those little holes that butter melts into.”

“Oh, yum.” And now they’re just standing in the kitchen. Adora goes to jump up to sit on the counter, and she sees her bowl again. It gets her thinking. “Hang on, I’m just going to grab something really quick from my room.”

“Ok,” Catra says, and moves away from her to jump back up onto the counter. Adora smiles to herself. Some things haven’t changed.

She goes back to her room, and is somewhat relieved to find that Bow and Glimmer are gone, although to where, she has no idea. She goes to her dresser and picks up the picture frame and looks at it, really _looks_ at it. Unexpectedly, it doesn’t feel quite as…bittersweet as it has in the past. She wipes some dust off the glass with her sleeve, and heads back to the kitchen.

Catra is curled up on the counter, apparently napping, but she lifts her head and blinks blearily when Adora comes into the kitchen. “Oh, you’re back already.”

“I mean I just had to grab something…”

Catra yawns, “I didn’t know if that was an excuse to go hang out with Glitter and Bow or something.”

Adora frowns. “It wasn’t. And it’s Glimmer.”

“Whatever,” Catra says, “so what did you go get?”

Adora suddenly feels a frission of nerves. She moves to stand right in front of Catra, who is sitting up now, legs swinging off the edge of the counter. She’s clutching the frame tightly to her chest with the picture facing her.

“I, brought this with me. To come to Amundsen-Scott…I—you—”

Catra’s watching her, and looking increasingly concerned. “Is it a bad thing? Adora—”

“No! I just. Sorry. Um, I brought…this.” Adora slowly unfurls her crossed arms to hold the photo frame in both hands. She keeps the picture facing her, until the last possible second, and then she’s holding it out in the open. Her heart is racing, her stomach a knot. She squeezes her eyes closed to avoid seeing Catra’s reaction.

This feels like showing all her cards in one go. And she wouldn’t even be doing it, except that Catra has her _goddamn_ bowl. The bowl that Adora had forgotten in her haste, and then _mourned_ when she realized it was missing. In her more self-effacing moments, she’d made up scenarios that involved Catra throwing it on the ground, shattering it into a million pieces, dropping it off a balcony or throwing it into the ocean. In her more sane moments, she imagined her donating it to a thrift store, getting rid of it as fast as she could.

Adora had sometimes contemplated going back to their college town and scouring the shelves of thrift stores. But she hadn’t. It had been better to hold onto the idea that maybe it was out there somewhere, than be faced with the evidence that she’d never see it again.

Adora starts when she feels Catra’s fingers brush against hers. She cracks open her eyes.

Catra has curled her hands around the edges of the frame, and she’s staring at it intently, with a complicated expression on her face. She brushes a thumb across the glass.

Adora is aware of every tiny point of contact between their hands.

“You brought this with you,” Catra says roughly.

Adora just nods. She looks at the photo too. One of their coaches had snapped it right after they’d been presented with their trophy, after they won the championship game. Adora has her head thrown back, laughing. Catra is looking up at the trophy they’re hefting aloft, smiling a mile wide. The rest of their teammates are in the background, out of focus but just as wildly happy.

Catra looks up at her. “Adora…”

Adora blinks rapidly. Her voice is just as rough, “So, you know, you have the bowl, I have…this.”

Catra smiles wistfully. Adora could get lost in her eyes. One a light green, that has always made Adora think of precious stones. Peridot, jade, emerald maybe. The other as blue as the sky.

Catra brings the photo closer, and Adora follows without letting go, so now she’s almost standing between Catra’s knees, both of their heads bent, unable to look away from their past selves.

Adora adjusts her hands so now Catra is holding the picture, and Adora’s palms are cradling Catra’s hands, fingers on the backs of her wrists. She lightly runs one thumb over Catra’s pulse point.

Catra inhales a tiny bit, and then breaks away from Adora’s touch to twist around and set up the picture on the counter, then hops off and opens the oven. She exclaims enthusiastically, “They’re ready to cook now!”

Adora shakes herself out of whatever daze she was in and looks over Catra’s shoulder at the now-plump disks of dough. She clears her throat a couple times. “Really? Great!”

Catra pulls out the trays and sets them on the counter, then grabs a large cast iron griddle from a rack of cookingware and places it on top of the stove. She turns on the gas stove and adjusts the flame to her satisfaction. “Last step is cooking them on the griddle! They don’t even need to bake in the oven.”

Adora leans close to the raw English muffins. They smell yeasty, and look good enough to eat right now, although she knows better than to try to take a bite of one. Catra would _kill_ her.

A few minutes later, Catra holds her hand an inch above the griddle. She grins, “It’s hot enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've never made English muffins, they're really fun and pretty easy! [Here's a recipe I've used! ](https://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/english-muffins-recipe)  
Also I did a [couple little doodles](https://herothehardway.tumblr.com/post/190449382233/doodle-from-antarcticaau-ch-10-in-which-catra) of the reading room scene from the last chap!  
Told ya the bowl would make a reappearance ;) Lets go keeping sentimental items that remind you of your ex-bff who you tell yourself you hate but you secretly cherish and use/look at constantly ayyyyy! As always, I love hearing what y'all thought of the chapter <3


	12. Hum at night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: panic attack

### Catra

Catra corners Glimmer in the ice core lab. Glimmer is squinting at a computer in a white jumpsuit, surrounded by blinking equipment.

“So. Sparkles.” Catra drawls, after Glimmer fails to notice her come in.

Glimmer jumps, and swivels her chair around. She pulls her earbuds out. “Fuck, you scared me!”

Catra raises an eyebrow. “That’s all it takes? You must live a _very_ exciting life.”

“What are you doing here, Catra?” Glimmer demands, glaring at her.

“What, can’t a girl check out another lab?”

“I _know_ that’s not why you’re here,” Glimmer says, eyes narrowed.

“All right, you got me. Congratulations,” Catra says, and starts strolling around the lab, picking things up and putting them down again. She can practically feel Glimmer’s eyes burning a hole in her back. “Wow, must be nice to get to work in the station.”

“It is, actually. If you’re just here to mess with my stuff,” Glimmer growls, “please leave.”

“That’s no way to treat your colleague, Glitter.”

Glimmer huffs in frustration, and Catra grins. “Tell me why you’re here or leave, Catra,” Glimmer says.

Catra sighs. “Fine, no need to be so _demanding_.” She hops up to sit on one of the countertops, ignoring Glimmer’s death glare in response. “I want to join your team for the Winter Solstice game.”

Glimmer sort of gawks at her for several seconds. “What!?”

“Apparently looks aren’t everything. I’ll repeat: I want to play _hockey_ on your _team. _For the Winter Solstice game._”_

“Why?” Glimmer asks sharply.

Catra shrugs nonchalantly. “Mix it up? See how playing my team from last year is?”

“They’re not going to do very well without you, nobody else was a NCAA player.”

“Don’t care.”

Glimmer frowns. “This is like, majorly against the rules.”

Catra slides off the counter fluidly and stalks around behind Glimmer, so she has to crane her neck to keep looking at her. “Mmm, you’re _right_. Those pesky rules that your mom made up. Well, I guess that makes sense.” She waits a beat. “I always figured you were a mommy’s girl.”

“I’m not a—” Glimmer starts to sputter.

“Please, Glimmer. Your mother is running your life, telling you who you can be friends with, who you can talk with, who you can ask to be on your team, and you’re what, twenty-six?” Catra clucks, “Well, it’s too bad I can’t join. I think we could have done really well together.”

Glimmer flushes pink, “My _mother_ doesn’t run my life, thank you very much!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Catra says smoothly, “Well, I see I’m not going to be able to convince you. It’s too bad. See ya around Glimmer.” She says, and slowly walks to the door.

“Wait!” Glimmer bursts out right as Catra puts her hand on the door handle, and Catra turns around. Glimmer continues, looking vaguely upset, “Fine, you can play with us!”

Catra smiles wolfishly. Worked like a charm. “Perfect,” she practically purrs. “Well, I look forward to joining you on the ice. Glad we had this little talk.”

And with that, she slips out of the lab.

### Adora

It seems like the whole station is talking about the Solstice game, and Adora hasn’t heard this much about hockey in years. She couldn’t believe her ears when she’d overheard Mermista discussing plays with _Perfuma_, and when she’d ended up in the dinner line behind Rogelio, Lonnie had been apparently coaching Kyle about how not to get crushed (Privately, Adora doesn’t think any amount of coaching will mitigate the fact that Kyle is about as substantial as a twig).

It’s exciting! Kind of. Adora has never seen a bunch of nerds get this hyped over a sports game of any kind. People keep cornering her during meals, in the hallways, everywhere, to ask her for advice, or watch them skate, or suggest taped games. It’s clear that they’re reaching the phase of the winter when everyone starts going stir-crazy, and Adora can’t blame them.

She retreats to her room to escape everyone, but even _that’s _not safe, because Bow pops his head in. “Hey Adora, so I was working on my stick handling skills and I just can’t seem to make the puck go where I want! Do you think you could take a look after dinner?”

Adora groans and drags a pillow over her head. “Not you too,” she says, voice muffled against the comforter.

“Sorry, sorry!” Bow is quick to say, “I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about this! I’ll just go get, uh, Glimmer to help me!”

Adora sits back up. “No, Bow, sorry I was rude. Yeah I’ll help you, how’s tomorrow after dinner sound?”

Bow grins, “Sounds amazing! Thank you so much!”

By the time she makes it into the ICL the next day, she is at her wits end. “You will not _believe_ the last few days I’ve had,” she grumbles as she shuffles into the computer lab with her coffee.

Catra snorts. “You too?”

“I swear I’ve talked to every single person at this station about hockey,” Adora groans.

“Well some people must be doubling up, because every time I go to the cafeteria someone else ambushes me to talk about technique,” Catra says.

Adora leans back in her chair and swivels to face Catra. “I’ve even been working _extra hours_, just to avoid everyone!”

Catra grins, “Well, how about we table any and all hockey talk at the lab, sound good?”

Adora takes a swig of her coffee and closes her eyes as the caffeine hits her system. “Sounds amazing.”

“And going along with that idea, have you seen my results from yesterday?”

Adora scoots her chair over to Catra’s computer and takes a look. “Ooh that’s pretty neat. What did you do?”

And just like that, they’re talking about work, the subject of hockey left behind. Adora couldn’t be happier.

Adora sits bolt upright in bed, heart hammering. She glances at the bedside clock. 3:47 AM. She rubs her eyes, still coming down from the dream. Her body is revving to go, run, skate, move, and she’s breathing fast. But it’s almost four in the morning.

She lies back down and closes her eyes, but her mind is going a mile a minute, and sleeps eludes her. She turns over and tries to sleep. Finally, she squints at the clock again. 4:32.

Adora sighs, pulls on a sweatshirt and slips on her slippers, and goes for a walk.

The station is quiet and empty, Adora’s soft footfalls the only sound. There are fewer lights on at night; the dorm hallway lights are off, but the cafeteria is illuminated by low-power lighting.

Adora feels herself drawn to the greenhouse. Almost three months in, she’s starting to understand all the wild stories about Amundsen-Scott. You _do_ start to go a little crazy down here, trapped in perpetual darkness in a metal box that is the only thing between you and almost instant death. She’s felt her sense of time sort of…slide to the left, and it seems like no matter how many cups of coffee she drinks, she can’t quite chase the fogginess from her mind.

Bow told her the other day that by the end of the winter, sometimes people actually start hallucinating, misremembering what they’ve done the day before, repeating whole conversations verbatim. Adora can see how that would happen. They exist in a little bubble separated from the normal passing of the world here.

She shakes herself as she goes into the greenhouse. The warm, humid air, green growing things and smell of soil relax her almost immediately, and the tension drains out of her. She slowly walks up one aisle, letting her fingers trail lightly across strawberry leaves and heads of lettuce, then down the next one.

What was her dream about? She can feel it evaporating: every time she thinks she remembers a detail, it’s too slippery to hang onto and is gone. It was definitely about hockey. Maybe it was also about her thesis. And it had been a bad dream, she knows that for sure, because when she’d woken up in a cold sweat she’d been halfway to a panic attack.

It’s nice in the greenhouse. Adora wishes she could stay. But she doesn’t really want to be alone, wasting time that she should be sleeping, just to touch plants. She slips out the door, careful to shut it quietly. Before, the kitchen lights were off but now they’re on. She pads across the empty cafeteria into the kitchen.

The only person in the room is Razz, the chef. She turns around when Adora appears in the door. “Oh hello dearie! Come in, come in!”

Adora does, and perches on a stool that Razz points her to.

Razz bustles around the kitchen as she talks. “So, you are the girl that Catra made those English muffins with, yes? They were very good, although not as good as pie, I’m afraid.”

Adora blinks. “Oh, um, yeah.”

“It’s so good to see Catra connecting with someone, you know? She was lonely last winter, I think.”

Adora laughs, “Lonely? I don’t think so, she had Scorpia, and Entrapta, and all those people. And it’s almost impossible to escape people here.”

Razz moves to the oven and sets the temperature, then pauses and looks at Adora. “Yes, true. But lonely and alone are not the same thing. I think you know this.”

“I—“ Adora breaks off. She does.

Razz hands her a bowl and a wooden spoon. “Wash your hands, then mix!”

Adora is almost annoyed at being bossed around. She’s not a cook, this isn’t her job. But Razz is so direct about it that actually, she doesn’t mind. She washes her hands and starts stirring the contents of the bowl.

“Not like that!” Razz exclaims, and snatches the wooden spoon out of Adora’s hand. “Like _this!”_

Razz demonstrates a rapid beating motion, then hands the bowl and spoon back to Adora. “Try again.”

Adora tries again, this time a little closer to the motion Razz showed. “I had a dream,” she says.

“Eh, most people do,” Razz says.

“No, I mean—“ Why is she even telling Razz this? “I’m kind of. Nervous, I guess, for this game.”

“It’s normal,” Razz says.

“Well yeah, I mean I know, and obviously this is just a friendly match, it doesn’t have, like, _stakes_.”

“Bragging rights are stakes!” Razz says, and snatches the bowl away from Adora. “That’s enough mixing!”

Adora tucks her feet up on a rung of the stool, hands sandwiched between her thighs and the seat. “I don’t know whether to play on Glimmer’s team or Ca—Scorpia’s,” she says.

Razz continues bustling around, pulling things out of the refrigerators or the pantry. “Why don’t you know?”

Adora thinks about it for a minute. “I, well…how much of a risk is it to play with Catra, when the managers could show up?”

“Hmm, why do you want to play with Catra?”

Adora goes to say something, and stops. Her mouth hangs open as she fishes for a good reason. “Um. Well, um…”

Razz pours batter into a muffin tin quickly and precisely, then slides the muffins into the oven. “Maybe you should think about that before deciding, yes?”

“Huh,” Adora says. This has been…surprisingly helpful. She should talk to Razz more often.

“Those English muffins were very good! Although not as good as pie, I’m afraid.” Razz says.

Adora squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head for a moment. “Wait. Didn’t you already say that?”

Razz strokes her chin. “Did I? Ah, the winter is getting to me. It happens.” She goes into the pantry, and Adora gets the distinct feeling she’s been dismissed.

“Uh, thank you! For the advice!” Adora calls after her.

“Anytime, dearie!” Razz squints at her. “What did you say your name was?”

“Um, Adora.”

It’s close to 5:30 now, and Adora doesn’t feel any sleepier, even though her body is heavy. She trudges to Swiftwind’s kennel. When she gets there, he’s sleeping on his dog bed, but he perks up and trots over to her to sniff her hand.

“Hey Swiftie,” Adora says softly. “I know it’s early, sorry to wake you up.”

Swiftwind wags his tail and licks her fingers.

“Want to come with me to the reading room?” Adora says, “I think I’m going to work on my thesis.”

Swiftwind leans against her, begging for petting.

“Oh all right,” Adora says, and scratches under his chin. After a few minutes, she clips his leash on and heads back to her room to grab her computer.

It’s dark in the reading room, and Adora flicks on the lights and goes straight to her favorite armchair. Tucking herself into it, she opens her laptop and opens her neutrino analysis. Swiftwind curls up at her feet.

She hasn’t worked on this in a while. Her advisor’s frustration with her progress forces her to return to her thesis even when all she really wants to work on is _this_ data analysis. She pulls up her thesis after she’s done and starts thinking about how she’d combine the two if she were to take Catra’s advice. She’ll have to change the introduction, the conclusion and the abstract of course. And then maybe she’ll make a few new sections?

Adora creates a blank document and starts copying and pasting sections from both sources into it. She’s undoing all her work in the past…year, doing this. All the copy-editing to make things flow, to have smooth transitions so the reader is led through the more technical-detail-heavy sections with a clear understanding of the goal. But if she combines the two, the goal is _different_. Her conclusions will be different.

She stops copying and pasting and goes back to the abstract. She reads it, then reads it again. Then, she deletes it, because obviously _that_ isn’t going to work, given all these new parts. She writes a new one, and it’s terrible. The words are all jumbled. It’s word vomit. She deletes it and writes another abstract, this time paying attention to sentence structure. It’s worse. Adora growls under her breath, and tries again.

Again.

Again.

Abruptly, she notices she’s trembling, and she hasn’t typed anything in…a while. She’s just staring blankly at the screen, not taking anything in, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She feels detached, even though now she notices that her breathing is short and fast.

Swiftwind has been sitting up, sniffing in her lap, probably for a while now. He licks her hand and Adora blinks, tries to smile at him, but she feels like she’s trapped in her body, everything happening simultaneously too fast, and completely disconnected from her.

Swiftwind gets up and disappears out the reading room door. Adora manages to close her laptop and put it on the floor, then rests her head on her hands, elbows on her knees, staring at the floor, trying and failing to get her breathing under control.

It’s a nice floor. Her thesis is never going to be finished. There’s an interesting diamond pattern that interlocks into the shape of a star. All her hard work for the past four years, no, _nine_ years, is a waste of time. Speckled blue flecks the linoleum. Adora can feel the sheen of sweat on her skin. What will she do if she doesn’t get her PhD? It’s been her only career goal since she _made _any career goals. She won’t go back to hockey. She can’t go back to hockey. She’s not in shape, she’s four years out of practice. She’d never make the tryouts. She failed hockey. That proves that she’s a failure. She’s going to fail her graduate program. She’s going to—

“Adora?” A voice says from the door, and Adora lifts her head from her hands, eyes wide. It’s Catra with Swiftwind standing next to her, his leash trailing on the floor.

Catra takes in Adora’s expression, her posture, the raw panic Adora knows is in her eyes. “Woah, woah, Adora, what’s wrong?” she asks, quickly coming to kneel in front of her. _I’m fine, everything is fine. _Adora puts her head back into her hands and resumes analyzing the floor. She can’t seem to force the words out.

She is trying to just. Breath properly. But it’s not working, and all she’s doing is gasping for air.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Catra asks.

Adora nods, once, short and stiff.

Catra starts gently, but firmly, rubbing her leg. “Okay. Adora it’s okay. Okay.” She says, and bites her lip. “So I don’t really know what you need the most unless you tell me, but, um, how about some breathing? Breathe with me, okay?”

Catra inhales, and exhales, hand moving up and down her leg in time, and Adora tries to match her. Tries, because her breath keeps catching in her chest. Catra takes another slow breath, lets it out, and Adora does too.

In, out. In, out. In, out. Adora’s breathing starts to even out a little more. She still feels shaky, and clammy, her heart is still beating too fast, but it feels less like a runaway train. “S-sorry,” Adora whispers.

“Don’t be,” Catra says, voice quiet and level. “Woke up to Swiftwind barking at my door, which was kind of disorienting, let me tell you. So I followed him here, and here you are. That’s a pretty smart dog. I see why you like him. Even though I don’t like dogs,” she tacks on at the end, prompting Adora to smile weakly. Just listening to Catra talk is helping.

“He’s trained to do that,” Adora says hoarsely.

“Like I said, he’s a smart one,” Catra says, then, “How can I help you Adora?”

Adora lets out a long, shaky breath. “Just—stay.”

“I can do that,” Catra says softly. She pauses, then asks, “Do you want a, um, a hug? Or something?”

“That would be nice,” Adora whispers.

Catra’s hand leaves her leg, and then Catra is squeezing into the chair next to her. “C’mon, nothing like a good cuddle,” She says, and pulls Adora to her. Adora readjusts, and leans into her. Catra puts an arm around her shoulders. “This ok?” she asks.

“Yeah, this is good,” Adora says quietly.

This is her first panic attack in…a while. She hasn’t had a single one since being down here.

Catra is quiet for a minute. Then she asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

_Does _she want to talk about it? Not really. Should she? Yes. Adora sighs shakily. “Um. I was…working on my, uh. Thesis?” Her voice cracks at the end.

Catra glances at the laptop sitting on the floor and looks stricken. “Fuck,” she says under her breath.

Adora just curls up miserably.

“I shouldn’t have been so harsh, fuck, I’m sorry Adora,” Catra says, rubbing her back.

“S’not your fault I have anxiety,” Adora mumbles. “I was having a hard time anyway…at least your advice would make it better…all my editing isn’t.”

Catra frowns. “What were you doing working at your thesis at,” she glances at her watch,   
“six in the morning?”

Adora just groans. “5:30. Really, 4:30.”

Catra whistles. “Shit,” she says without any heat.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“How come?”

“…had a nightmare. Don’t remember about what. Something about hockey. And my thesis…I couldn’t do anything about hockey but since I was awake…” She trails off.

“You came in here and started working on it.”

“Not that I got anything done.”

Catra sighs. “You gotta find a way around this perfectionism thing. You know that right?”

“I’m getting better,” Adora says in a small voice.

“You really are,” Catra laughs, “Man, in college…”

“I let it get the best of me,” Adora mumbles, “But I just don’t see why it’s wrong to want my thesis to be the best it can be.”

“Okay.” Catra wiggles around so she can face Adora better. “But you’re letting it get in the way of your whole career. It doesn’t _have_ to be the best. Just…good enough.” Catra pinches the bridge of her nose. “What has your therapist had to say?”

Adora’s gaze darts around the reading room, avoiding looking at Catra. “Uh…”

“Hey, Adora, stay with me here.” Catra says, waving her hand in front of her face, “What did they say?”

Adora would rather not talk about it with Catra, because she knows she’s the world’s biggest hypocrite. That for the vast majority of their relationship, Adora had been the one trying to get Catra to value herself. “…that I—that I let my mistakes…define me. That I’m.” She stops, then reluctantly mutters, “still worthy of…respect. From myself. When I fuck up.”

That’s the short answer. The longer answer lies somewhere in week after week of talking about why, exactly, she thinks she’s not worthy of love or respect unless she’s perfect. Of talking about her childhood, which hadn’t exactly been a blast. Crying in front of her therapist, which she’d hated.

Catra squeezes her shoulder. “Okay. That’s good. You are. Do you have, I dunno, phrases you tell yourself when you notice you’re falling into it again?”

This time, Adora really avoids looking at Catra. “…I feel stupid saying them.”

Catra lets out a long, slow breath. “You know, you’re only going to get better about it if you try.”

Adora sniffs. “I need to be better.”

“Hey, don’t try to be perfect with this too. You’re not gonna remember all the time. Just, when you do…give it a go. And, if it makes you feel better…I’ve always—respected you, even when I hated you. Even with everything that happened. So if I can, _you_ definitely can. Think about it next time, okay?” Catra smiles encouragingly.

Adora is filled with warmth and gratefulness. “Thanks, Catra,” She says softly. “I need to just, try to get a draft done, and then I can go back and edit stuff after. And I think…maybe not do it when I’m by myself.”

“Sounds good,” Catra says, and squeezes Adora’s shoulder.

Adora rests her head on Catra’s shoulder. She can hear Catra’s heart beating, feel her shoulders moving with her breath. It’s settling. They sit quietly for a few minutes.

Finally, Catra checks the time. She yawns. “Well, I don’t know about you but I’m going to go back to bed for another hour. Think you can get a couple z’s?”

Adora gets up and gives Catra a small smile. She holds out her hand to Catra, and Catra clasps it and gets out of the chair too.

Catra stands and arches her back, and Adora hears a pop or two. “Next time you want to have an emotional discussion about your thesis, pick a more comfortable location, okay?” She jokes.

Adora is hopeful that maybe this can be the last one.

“So, you excited for the game tomorrow?” She asks, elbowing Catra in the ribs as they head back to the dormitories, her holding Swiftwind’s leash.

“Yeah, obviously,” Catra scoffs. “You ready to put on a show?”

Adora grins. “You know it.” She’s going to text Scorpia before she passes out, and tell her she’s going to play with her team (with Catra).

“They won’t know what hit ‘em!” Catra crows, pantomiming weaving through members of the other team and taking a shot at an imaginary goal, “And she scores!” she throws her hands up. “This is gonna be so fun!”

“You played much since college?” Adora asks.

Catra shrugs, still grinning. “I mean, just Adult Classic, it’s pretty fun.”

Adora is surprised. She hadn’t known that Catra had even touched skates since they graduated. “I don’t know much about that.”

“Oh, you know, there are teams from all around, different divisions based on how much playing experience you have and stuff. There are a few tournaments a year around the country, mainly local teams, that kind of thing.”

“Really? What kind of levels?”

Catra squints at her. “How do you not know about this already? None of your Olympian friends mention it?”

Adora crosses her arms. “A lot of them play NWHL. Not exactly gonna talk about a beer league.”

“It’s a little more than a beer league,” Catra is watching her, Adora can feel it. “Okay well I don’t know how you don’t know about this, but please tell me you’re gonna look into it when we go back. I can’t imagine you not playing.”

She’ll have to do more research, but it _does_ sound fun. It would be fun to get to play at least a little competitively again. “Yeah, fine, I’ll look into it.”

“Sweet!” Catra says, adding a little skip in her step.

They’ve reached the dorms, and Adora heads to her room. Swiftwind can sleep in her room for an hour, Glimmer probably won’t care.

Catra walks with her, even though Catra’s room is on the second floor. When she shoots Catra a look, Catra just gives her a look. “You just had a panic attack. Forgive me for not wanting to ditch you as soon as possible.”

They reach Adora’s door, and Catra bends down to pet Swiftwind. “You’re pretty lucky to have this guy.”

_I’m pretty lucky to have you, _Adora thinks. “I know I am,” She says.

“Well, uh, get some sleep, okay? And see you later today. If you wanna sleep in, I won’t tell.” Catra says and winks. She lifts her hand like she’s gonna put it on Adora’s shoulder, then stops and starts walking towards the stairs.

“Thank you,” Adora calls after her, as quietly as she can. Most people are still sleeping.

Catra spins around and walks backwards, giving Adora finger guns. “Any time.” And with that, she disappears up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooOOooh the stage is set for the game! How will Adora and Catra react when they discover the miscommunication? How will they play with their respective teams? Will Angella and Shadow Weaver find out??   
Aaaand in this AU, there's actually Women's Adult Classic, which is like, hockey tournaments for people who played competitively previously and want to have fun playing as older people. We'll just pretend that exists :)


	13. Flew like a moth to you

### Adora

“So, Scorpia,” Adora says, awkwardly drawing the name out. Sooo Scoooorpia. She’s just gotten to the gym, which has as promised been transformed into an ice rink. She sits down on a bench and starts lacing up her skates. “Who all is on our team?”

Nobody from Glimmer’s team is here yet, and if Adora had to guess, they’re probably having a pre-game meeting where Bow is going over the plays she’s been showing him.

Scorpia pauses in the middle of lacing up her own skates, right as a group of Weaver’s people walk in wearing red like Scorpia and Adora are, skates hanging over their shoulders. Scorpia points at them in turn, “Well, us and Lonnie are forwards, Kyle and Rogelio are our defensemen, and then Entrapta is going to be goalie.”

Adora chuckles. Entrapta will be a perfect goalie, and honestly, from the little she knows about her team, all the positions seem appropriate. Then she replays what Scorpia just said. “Wait. What about Catra?”

Scorpia looks confused. “Catra? She’s playing with Glimmer’s team. Didn’t you know that?”

“What?” Adora says in shock.

At that moment, the double doors swing open, and in comes Glimmer’s team, wearing blue. And _Catra_ is with them.

Catra instantly zeroes in on Adora and grimaces.

There’s a gaping maw somewhere in Adora’s gut, and it feels like she’s gotten the wind knocked out of her. Adora just stares as Catra walks with the rest of the blue team to their bench, feeling the distance between them acutely. She was looking forward to this. She _was. _And she was lying to herself when she thought this game wasn’t a big deal to her. Not the game itself: She’s excited about it, but the winning or losing of it apparently was much less important than the chance to play with Catra again.

She stands up, almost walks over to the Blue Team bench. But at that moment, Scorpia says, “Hey, where are you going?”

Adora glances back, and sees the rest of Red Team watching her, worry in their eyes. No, she can’t leave them, that would be really shitty of her. And Scorpia has been excited about this for months. So she ignores the twinge in her heart and sits back down.

Adora forces a smile on her face. It’s fine. It’s really fine, she’ll have a good time anyway, even if she doesn’t get to play with Catra. That’s what she tells herself, anyway. She switched teams, but she didn’t tell Catra. Catra switched and didn’t tell Adora. Because Adora had been thinking it would be a _surprise._

Benches have been set up on one side of the rink, and it seems like most of the station are hanging out, waiting for the game to start with beers in hand. Thankfully Shadow Weaver and Angella are nowhere to be found, just like Scorpia had said.

Double Trouble glides out onto the ice, surprisingly gracefully. They’re wearing a black and white striped shirt, and there’s a whistle around their neck. They skate over to the spectator benches.

“Frosta, would you do me a favor and be the scorekeeper?” Double Trouble asks, and Frosta glances up from the book she has her nose buried in.

“Uh, sure!” Frosta says, perking up.

“Fantastic. Here it is.” Double Trouble pulls a flip card scoreboard out from under their arm and unfolds it. “It won’t be too hard to keep track.”

Frosta nods eagerly. Adora thinks it’s nice that DT made a point of including her.

“Alright Red, huddle up!” Scorpia says, gesturing for the rest of the team to come over to her.

Adora is glad she was already sitting next to Scorpia, because she still hasn’t finished tying her skates. Her mind is still caught on Catra sitting with Team Blue. She’s more disappointed than she has any right to be, but that knot in her stomach doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. She almost feels…betrayed, although logically she knows that’s ridiculous.

“We’ve got a great team for this game,” Scorpia is saying, smiling wide. “And most excitingly, we’ve got Adora “She-Ra” Sherman playing for _our_ team! So I am positive that we are going to do great today!”

Adora blushes and ducks her head. “Uh, hi everyone.”

Lonnie crosses her arms. “Aren’t you one of Angella’s people?” She turns to Scorpia, “Why is she playing with us?” She glances back at Adora, “not that I’m _complaining_ or anything but…”

Kyle elbows Lonnie in the ribs. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth!” He hisses at her, although given that they are about three feet from Adora, she’s not sure why he’s acting like she can’t hear.

Scorpia frowns at Lonnie. “She asked, I said yes, simple as that! And,” she lowers her voice, “Adora’s the one who helped me think of a way around the, you know, reassignment situation. She’s not going to pull any bullshit.”

“You mean how Shadow Weaver made you work the shittiest job as punishment for having sex with Perfuma?” Entrapta asks uncomfortably loudly.

Scorpia cringes and glares at Entrapta “Yeah but don’t say it so loud!”

Entrapta blinks. “Oh, that wasn’t very subtle, was it?”

Scorpia waves her off. “No, but it’s fine. _They’re _not here, anyway.”

Double Trouble tweets a short whistle to get everyone’s attention. “Players over here!” They call.

The Red team hurriedly gets up and skates over to Double Trouble. Adora eyes her new teammates critically as they move on the ice. They’re…surprisingly not terrible. Kyle is a little all over the place, which she was expecting based on every aspect of his personality, and it seems unlikely that Scorpia will be particularly coordinated with a stick in her hands, but hey, she’s big and strong and she’ll probably do fine. She can work with this.

The Blue team seems fairly evenly matched, actually with them. Sea Hawk is their goalie, and if she had to guess, Glimmer, Bow and Perfuma are forwards, and Mermista is the second defenseman. Catra _could_ play another position, but Adora doesn’t see why she would. She’s a brilliant defenseman, and in this context, she’ll probably be heavily involved in offensive play as well.

“So, if any of you _read_ the rules that I sent out, I’m repeating myself! So for all of _you_,” Double Trouble laughs, “I’ll remind you...”

They say some more stuff, but Adora has tuned them out. She knows the rules of hockey. And now that she’s gotten over the shock of Catra’s team switch (mostly), she can’t seem to take her eyes off Catra wearing a hockey uniform. Her hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and she’s resting her helmet on her hip, head cocked to one side as she listens to Double Trouble. Her cheeks are a faintly pink from the cool temperatures of the gym-turned-ice-rink. She’s practically oozing confidence, every aspect of her posture saying, _you better be nervous because I’m the best._

Adora has always thought competence is an underrated but extremely attractive quality. She swallows and tries to focus back in on DT.

“And that’s everything!” Double Trouble says, clapping their hands. “I am _thrilled _to get to be your ref again. Puck drops in one minute!”

Everyone scatters to their positions, and Adora takes her place on center ice. Apparently, she’ll be facing off with Glimmer.

She narrows her eyes at Glimmer. She hisses, “Why didn’t you tell me Catra was playing with your team?”

Glimmer makes a face. “She only asked me like, a couple days ago. And I thought you knew! You work together all day!”

“Well I didn’t!” Adora retorts.

Her eyes dart to the side, to where Catra is ready on the ice. Catra’s whole body is a line of tension, that little crease between her eyebrows so familiar. Only instead of the feeling of confidence that expression has always engendered, Adora feels…nervous.

Double Trouble glides over, puck in hand. Adora takes a deep breath and lets it out long and slow. Glimmer shifts her weight across from her. Double Trouble drops the puck.

The instant it hits the ice she and Glimmer are battling for possession of the puck. But Adora manages to hook it and shoots it to Lonnie. And they’re off.

The _schick _of her skates on ice feels so good that it completely banishes the last of Adora’s ire from before. She never fails to rediscover this fact, every time she’s decided to haul her ass to that league game she signed up for and dragged her feet getting ready for. Once she gets there, puts her skates on, the rest of the world just falls away.

It’s strange, playing against Catra instead of with her. Adora’s aware of where Catra is on the ice nearly all the time. It’s been like that from the first time they played together. They’re aware of each other. They started predicting with shocking accuracy where the other would be, sometime mid-freshman year, and Adora slips back into that like a second skin.

The problem is, Catra’s not on her team, and Adora’s instincts are the opposite of helpful right now. Every time Blue gets possession, Adora expects in the back of her mind that Catra will intercept something any second. But instead, it’s Kyle, or Rogelio, who are not half as effective.

Adora may be rusty, but she’s good-rusty. She wasn’t expecting Blue’s defense to put up much of a fight. But then again, she wasn’t expecting Catra to be _on_ Team Blue. Luckily, their offense isn’t _quite_ there, leaving Adora free to focus on offense.

Lonnie and Scorpia are pretty good at finding her on the ice. Scorpia, coming up on Mermista, passes to Adora, and she weaves between Catra and Glimmer, then quickly passes to Lonnie behind the goal as she feels Catra coming up behind her.

Which was a good idea, as Catra checks her into the boards a split second later.

Catra is everywhere, screwing with Adora’s instincts. Red is doing a decent job staying on the offensive, and Adora isn’t flattering herself when she says it’s because of her (good, because Adora doesn’t 100% trust Red’s defense). But Catra always seems to be right there, bodying up on her, forcing her to take shots that she’s not totally confident in. And Sea Hawk manages to save them.

When Catra gets in her face for the umpteenth time, Adora hisses, “If you wanted to get up close and personal, I’m free anytime after, wait, never.”

Catra glares at her, shoots back, “Your hands call in sick today or something?”

Adora smiles savagely as she moves back to give Lonnie an option. She may not be able to play _with_ Catra, but she can certainly play with her in other ways.

They take a water break. Adora tightens up. She starts passing to Lonnie and Scorpia more to give them opportunities, because there’s no question that Catra is completely dialed into Adora, even if she’s giving her slightly more breathing room than she was.

Finally, Rogelio passes to her from the right. She catches the puck on her stick, repositions her angle, all in the blink of an eye. She sees an opening…and _shoots._ The puck sails past Sea Hawk’s mitt. Left pocket.

Cheers from the spectators. Adora lets out a short whoop and pumps her fist, skating in a circle to face her team.

Scorpia rushes toward her and wraps her in a bear hug. “I knew you’d be great!” She crows.

Adora’s eyes find Catra over Scorpia’s shoulder. Catra crosses her arms, and although Adora can’t actually _hear_ her, she can read Catra’s lips. _Lucky shot._

Adora narrows her eyes and disentangles herself from Scorpia. She glides past Catra on the way to the face-off, and as she passes, she mutters, “When was the last time you got lucky, huh?”

She smirks as she skates away. Yeah, this is fun.

She’s facing off with Glimmer, when Glimmer sees something over her shoulder and her eyes go round. “Fuck,” she vehemently swears under her breath.

Adora frowns at her. “What?”

“I think I just saw my m—“

But Adora doesn’t get to learn whatever she saw because the whistle blows, and now they’re back in the game.

The majority of play is happening in Blue’s half right now. Adora personally thinks they should put Catra in as a forward instead of a defenseman, although she’s not exactly gonna suggest something that would make Blue more effective. And it’s also slightly because she’d like a break from the constant pressure Catra is putting on her.

But also because Catra is head and shoulders better than everyone else on Blue, and right now her only goal seems to be to make Adora’s life as difficult as possible. Meaning that she’s _not_ contributing as much on offense.

The end of the period is fast approaching. Entrapta passes to Adora forward, and she takes the puck up the ice. Catra converges on her quickly, but by now, Adora is anticipating that. Right before Catra gets to her, she passes to Scorpia then quickly swerves around Catra to get it back from Scorpia.

Catra is on her immediately, stick clacking against Adora’s, faster than she was expecting. Adora doesn’t know how she manages, but she gets the puck to Lonnie, who sees an opportunity and takes it, and that’s another point for Red!

This isn’t so different than practice scrimmages in college, she thinks as her teammates and the crowd cheer. Well except that Catra’s current strategy is only working because of the significant ability mismatch on both their teams. Right now, the best way to hamper Red’s offense is by shutting down Adora, otherwise they’d have a lot more than two points right now.

But Adora is canny of her now, and she’s passing the instant she gets the puck almost every time. By the time the first period is over, Blue hasn’t managed to score, to Red’s two.

It’s not their fault; Glimmer, Bow and Perfuma are decent but they rarely maintain possession for long. Red may have only scored two points, but the vast majority of the first period was spent on their end of the rink.

Red team convenes by their makeshift bench, and Adora takes several gulps of water. They don’t have subs, meaning this is much more exhausting than she’d expected.

Scorpia smiles fiercely. “Alrighty team, we’re doing great out there, which I think the score demonstrates! Let’s just keep working hard.”

And then they skate back out. But this time, instead of facing off with Glimmer, Catra is the one across from her. She’s completely dialed in, Adora knows, intensity in her eyes and a smile playing around the corner of her mouth (In college, Catra had gotten a reputation for unnerving their opponents by smiling in high-stakes moments). Sweat plasters strands of hair to her forehead, and Adora is slightly relieved that she’s not the only one dying out here. It’s not like they do this every day anymore.

Adora raises one eyebrow. “Taking a break from all that hard work on defense?”

Catra smirks and this time she chirps back, quick as a whip. “I’ve seen higher shooting percentages in Little League, it’s not like they need me back there.”

Adora should have been expecting the chirp, but somehow she’s thrown off-guard. And she knows Catra can tell. Fuck. Adora presses her lips into a thin line.

In the first period, Adora had won every faceoff. But Catra is a lot more aggressive than Glimmer, who is after all, not very experienced. And Adora isn’t ready. Catra takes possession, and passes to Bow, who takes it into Red’s half of the ice. Then Catra takes off.

Catra was good on defense, but she’s about to _destroy_ Kyle and Rogelio. Adora pelts after her.

Catra weaves around Kyle, and shoots. Entrapta drops to her knees and manages to block it. From what Adora’s seen, Entrapta’s ridiculously fast reflexes are almost completely making up for Kyle’s total incompetence.

But Glimmer’s got the puck now, and she passes it to Catra _just_ out of the reach of Adora’s stick, and Catra shoots and the second time, it goes just under Entrapta’s elbow into the net.

Catra instantly finds Adora and smiles the biggest shit-eating grin. “You better put some harder work in on defense, huh?”

Adora grits her teeth and skates back to face off. The time to mess around is over.

The problem is, Catra is, in fact, a forward and now she's in her comfort zone. She’s a _powerhouse_ center, and Glimmer and Bow are good enough that Kyle, Rogelio and Entrapta can’t quite keep up. Entrapta lets another one in, again from Catra.

Adora is trying to decide whether it’s worth it to switch with Kyle. If she does, she’s basically deciding to give up on their offense and put all her effort into routing Catra.

A few sweaty minutes later, in which Entrapta blocked some impressively difficult shots, and Adora decides that it’s better to stay where she is.

The playing field is just more level now, not totally unbalanced as she’d first worried. She and Catra do balance each other out, and honestly she’s having such a good time now. Maybe even more fun than she would have playing with Catra. Now, she’s having to think about what she’s doing, figure out how to work around Catra. They would have just creamed the other team if they’d played together, and where’s the fun in that?

Plus, and this is something she hadn’t even considered, playing opposite each other means the chirps just keep coming. Half the time she’s playing, she’s trying to think up another one for their next faceoff, and the anticipation to find out what Catra’s come up with is delicious.

Double Trouble has their eye on the two of them, Adora knows, but neither of them are pushing too far. If anything, the chirps have an energy to them, zinging back and forth between them like a live wire.

It’s _fun_. It just eggs Adora on to play harder, put everything she’s got into this.

It’s almost the end of the third period, and the score stands Blue 5-4 Red. The spectators are tense, on both sides. Adora’s heart is pounding in her ears, and her muscles ache. She _knows_ they have this, that they can tie the game.

A shot by Bow is deftly deflected by Entrapta and passed to Adora, and somehow, miraculously, the ice is almost completely clear. Adora takes off down the boards.

She feels, more than sees, Catra coming up behind her. There’s nobody she can pick Catra off her by going around, only ice between her and Sea Hawk.

She’s far enough away from the goal that taking a shot now wouldn’t be a sure thing. But there’s nobody to pass to, the clock is counting down, Catra is almost on her.

She shoots.

The next instant Catra slams into her, and she pitches forward and barely catches herself. When she looks up, Sea Hawk is on his knees, head hung. And her team is cheering. The timer goes to zero.

They’re going into overtime.

The next five minutes are a whirlwind. Everyone on the ice is hell-bent on scoring, and it shows. Adora’s legs are burning, her hands slippery in her gloves. And when five minutes are up, it’s still 5-5. Which means this will come down to a shootout.

When Red Team huddles together, Scorpia immediately says, “I think Adora should do it. All three.”

A chorus of agreement.

Adora halfheartedly tries to protest. “I’m not the only one who’s scored!”

Lonnie rolls her eyes. “Yeah but you’re the best, miss She-Ra Olympics. And I _guarantee_ that they’ll pick Catra.”

Adora nods. “Okay. I’ll do it then.”

Red goes first. Adora narrows her eyes at Sea Hawk, who is shifting nervously at the net. She picks up the puck and takes a curving approach, fakes, and when Sea Hawk commits to it, shoots. One down.

She skates back over to lean against the boards by their bench as Catra glides out.

Catra looks at Entrapta long and hard. Adora knows what she’s thinking. They’d talked about the psychology of shootouts dozens of times at Etheria, lying on their bed after tough games.

_It’s not like regulation, you know?_ She remembers Catra saying, lethargically after a grueling practice. _It’s all about fucking with the goalie. You have to be unpredictable._

Catra starts her approach, takes a serpentine path. Entrapta is watching her like a hawk. Catra slows down, like she’s about to shoot, and then right at the end speeds up right to the goal and squeezes it in.

As she’s going back to Blue’s bench, Catra makes a little flourishing gesture to the ice, as if to say, _all yours._

For the second one, Adora tries a different approach, coming in from the opposite angle and this time, when she’d faked before, she shoots. Two down.

Catra’s second is just as graceful and fluid as the first, and Entrapta can’t save.

Third and last, hopefully. Adora skates out on the ice. It’s rough and choppy from the game, Entrapta’s invented Zamboni contraption not quite good enough to fix everything quickly. Still, it shouldn’t be a problem. Buoyed with confidence, Adora picks up the puck and practically flies down the ice, then at the last second going right, trying to get Sea Hawk out of position.

But this time, Sea Hawk does manage to predict her. He barely deflects the puck with the tip of his glove and all the Blue Team supporters erupt into cheers. Adora’s shoulder sag as she skates back to the bench to wait.

Maybe Catra will miss again. C’mon Entrapta.

Catra skates out. Right before she starts, she catches Adora’s eye. She raises her eyebrows cockily, bites her lip. It’s a _look_. Adora’s breath catches.

Catra takes a wide, sweeping arc this time. Right before she gets to the goal, she almost stops, Entrapta lunges to one side, and Catra neatly taps it in behind her.

Cheers erupt from the stands. Adora’s stomach clenches. That’s it then.

* * *

Scorpia brings them together, talks about how proud she is of them, how they won last year and next year will be even better than this one. Adora can’t bring herself to meet her eye. It’s _her_ fault they lost. On a stupid shootout. She’s so frustrated she could scream.

She takes her skates off in silence, the rest of Team Red talking around her. They don’t seem too bummed about it, actually, which makes Adora feel marginally better.

Adora sees Catra slip out of the gym and she grabs her skates and stalks after her. Her whole body is thrumming with energy still, even though her quads are shaking from exhaustion. She pushes the double doors open with both hands and strides out into the hallway.

Down the hallway, Catra pauses in opening the door to room they’ve been using as a locker room.

“Hey, Catra,” Adora growls. Her words echo in the empty hallway.

Catra turns, and her smile is a sharp thing. “Thought I’d be seeing you.” And then she slips into the locker room.

Adora follows.

Catra is leaning against a cabinet when she comes in, her hands in the pockets of the vest she’s always wearing. She’s still wearing the Blue team jersey underneath. Her gaze is heavy on Adora’s skin, the barest hint of an irritating smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

Adora stands in the doorway and glowers at her.

Catra cocks an eyebrow. “So, did you want to talk or something? I’ve got places to be…celebrations to plan....”

Adora doesn’t know what she wants. She followed Catra here on instinct, and she hasn’t really broken out of the game mentality. She wants to _win_ something.

Adora marches up to Catra and pokes an accusatory finger into her chest. She snarls, “When were you going to mention that you were playing on Glimmer’s team?”

Catra’s eyelids are hooded, and she never takes her eyes from Adora’s. “I think you’re leaving out a key _detail_, Adora_._ When did _you_ decide to play on Scorpia’s team?”

Adora crosses her arms. “Couple days ago. Stop deflecting.”

Catra rolls her eyes. “Of course you did. Last minute.”

“I wanted to _play_ with you, and you fucking screwed it up!” Adora grinds out. She’s mad, but not _at_ Catra, she realizes. The loss stings though, and it happened in the least satisfying way possible. At least if they’d lost in regular time, or even overtime, Adora could settle with it. But losing, _or_ winning because of a shootout has always felt like a cheap trick to her.

“Maybe,” Catra growls, and pokes a finger into Adora’s sternum, pushes just enough to tip Adora back on her heels, “I _also_ wanted to play with _you!”_

“Did just fine without me,” Adora says.

Catra smirks. “I did, didn’t I? With a little help from _your_ friends. Shame.”

Adora sputters. “If I’d been on that team we would have _creamed _Team Red.”

Catra shrugs. Licks her lips. Keeps _looking_ at Adora. “Maybe. Probably. Guess we’ll never know.”

Adora’s eyes flick down to Catra’s lips, just for a fraction of a second. She can’t stop herself. And then she’s looking Catra in the eyes again.

Catra’s eyes widen a fraction. Then she blinks, _slowly. _“You know,” she murmurs, and Adora notices in the back of her mind just how close they are now, “None of this would have happened if you’d just…said what you_ wanted, Adora.”_

The way she says her name makes something hot curl up in Adora’s stomach. She takes a step forward, and Catra leans back until her back is on the wall. Adora’s mouth is dry. She bites her lip, contrary thoughts warring in her head. She glares, “I could say the same to you.”

“Well…I got what I wanted. I beat you.” Catra breathes. Adora feels the humidity from her breath on her own sweaty face.

Adora scrutinizes Catra’s face, searching for…_something. _“Rematch,” Adora suggests, a sharp smile tugging at her mouth, “just you and me.”

Catra blinks slowly, almost lethargically. She hasn’t looked away from Adora’s eyes, but now her eyes are slightly unfocused seeming. A flush creeps up her neck. After several seconds, she seems to refocus. She juts her chin forward, eyes flashing. “You’re on,” she says, “name the time.”

This should make Adora satisfied. This is the only logical reason she had for following Catra in here. Getting a second chance, a chance to match their skills up against each other _directly._ But Adora isn’t _done_. “Tomorrow,” she says lowly.

“Perfect,” Catra says. She makes no move to leave.

Adora abruptly realizes that her nose is almost touching Catra’s. She bites her lip, what she wants and what she should do warring inside her.

Catra’s eyes drop, for a fraction of a second. Her breath hitches. When she meets Adora’s gaze again, her pupils are huge, black.

There’s a moment when Adora hesitates. A part of her is screaming, _What are you doing, you could ruin everything, you’ll change everything do you want that? Don’t fuck it up, just after—_She violently shoves that voice aside.

She tilts her head, just a little, watching Catra closely. Catra is looking at her from slitted eyes. Her lips part.

Adora surges forward, shatters the distance between them and presses her mouth to Catra’s.

The instant she does, Catra’s arms are around her neck, and her mouth is hot and open and insistent on Adora’s. Adora slides her hands around Catra’s waist and she’s _kissing_ Catra, she’s kissing _Catra_, and her mind seems to be caught on that one thing as the rest of her slowly falls to pieces. Adora has never been kissed like _this_. Never felt this hunger in her bones, the need to drink Catra in, to inhale her until the difference between them is gone. Catra does something with her tongue that sends shivers down Adora’s spine and she presses closer, licks into Catra’s mouth, and Catra makes a little noise in the back of her throat that makes Adora press closer, run her hands up her sides, pull Catra tight against her.

She feels frenetic, and Catra matches her step for step because Catra’s arms aren’t content to stay around Adora’s neck. Her fingers are sliding into Adora’s hair and tugging it out of its ponytail to fall damply around Adora’s neck. They’re leaving trails of fire along her ribcage, and Adora thinks they aren’t possibly _close_ enough so she nudges her knee between Catra’s legs, and Catra is quick to meld their bodies as close together as she can manage.

Catra’s tongue is hot against Adora’s, and Adora feels wild, ravenous. She tugs at Catra’s lower lip gently, and Catra tips her head back and this is possibly the best moment in Adora’s entire life.

Kissing Catra is like standing in front of a blazing bonfire, sparks swirling into the sky. And Adora _wants_, with a force so shocking in its intensity that it takes her breath away. Has she always wanted this? Her mind instantly supplies an answer. _Yes_. Yes, she’s always wanted to thread her fingers deep into Catra’s mane, has always wanted to feel Catra melt into her. Catra’s hair is damp with sweat, and Adora’s fingers are slick with sweat and oil and the scent of Catra’s hair product and Adora wants to _drown_ in it.

She’s not sure how long it’s been when she breaks away, breathing hard like she just got off the ice after a brutal period.

Catra’s eyes slowly drift open. And if kissing Catra was good, seeing Catra post-kiss is something else. Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, panting to catch her breath.

Catra swallows hard. “Whoa,” she says, voice gravelly.

Adora just stares at her. She clears her throat, “Whoa.”

Catra scrambles to a more upright position, blinking owlishly.

And then the reality of the situation hits Adora. Her smile fades away. “Fuck,” she quietly swears. Because she’s just made out with her coworker, her lab partner, and the one person she was explicitly warned to stay away from. And every fiber in her being wants to again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off a disclaimer: I am NOT a hockey person. Why did I decide to have them play hockey?? Why did I do that to myself?? SO to anyone who does watch/play more than me. Please excuse any inaccuracies that I may have made. Tried my best xD Correspondingly, I think this is the latest I've ever posted a chapter because I did procrastinate like you wouldn't BELIEVE writing the game. Because I don't know how to write a hockey game. But I DID IT IT'S WRITTEN bless. 
> 
> Aaaaand the moment you've all been waiting for! They freaking kissed! Yessssss.  
Next up: Who did Glimmer see during that faceoff? How will Adora and Catra react to finally kissing? Will there be repercussions for this major shakeup of the station divide? Find out next week ;)


	14. Flew like a moth to you Part II

### Adora

Catra’s eyes dart around the room, which must be some kind of game room in the summer, judging by the ping pong table and shelves of board games. She pushes past Adora and starts pacing. “This is bad, this is really bad.” Catra kicks a duffle bag in frustration, “Fuck, what now?”

Adora nods mutely, and then belatedly realizes that Catra wants her to answer. “Um. Uh…” she grimaces, “…forget this ever happened?”

Catra shoots her a _look_. Yeah, Adora’s pretty sure the last five minutes are seared on her brain forever too.

“What? Just saying…” she mutters.

Catra groans, and rubs her temples. “I mean you’re right, that’s what we _should_ do.”

Adora knows it’s a completely inappropriate reaction, but the sound Catra just made goes straight to her core. Her cheeks flush. Now is really not the time.

Adora latches onto Catra’s words. “I mean, we’re friends, we were friends before, it’s fine, we can just keep being friends it’s not like it’s hard, right? And, I mean we’re not supposed to be, and _shit_ what if Angella or Shadow Weaver find out they’d _kill _us, so maybe we should just stop talking to—“

“Adora! Shut _up!_” Catra cuts her off forcefully. “Stop being a total dumbass.”

Adora shuts up.

Catra walks over to one of the many bags littering the room and strips off her jersey.

“Wh—what are you doing!?” Adora stutters, eyes wide.

Catra glances over her shoulder. “Getting changed so we don’t accidentally incriminate ourselves by being in here togeth…er…“

Voices are coming from the hallway. Fuck. Adora quickly tries to comb her hair back into some semblance of neatness. Catra had done a good job of deconstructing her ponytail, and she feels generally…rumpled.

She’s only slightly more presentable when the door opens and Glimmer walks in.

“—And did you see that awesome assist I got with Catra? I was like, _yah! _And she was like, _woosh! _And scored! I can’t believe—“ Glimmer comes to a screeching halt as she takes in Adora, who is awkwardly standing in the exact center of the room with her hands in her pockets, still wearing her uniform and Catra, who is thankfully now wearing a different shirt, sitting on her hands on one of the benches, stiff as a board. Glimmer’s eyes widen fractionally. “I didn’t expect to see you—you two, um…”she trails off, and her eyes narrow. “You were…?”

Adora says “Arguing,” at the same time that Catra says “Nothing.”

Adora glares at Catra. Catra glares back.

Catra says, staring aggressively at Adora, “IceCube stuff, Glitter. None of your beeswax.”

Glimmer sounds incredulous. “After the game. You were discussing work.” She crosses her arms. “Listen, I wasn’t born yesterday, okay? I’m not gonna say anything so stop…freaking out! Now I’m just gonna get my stuff and leave and pretend I never came in here, and later we are _talking, _got that Adora? Okay? Okay!”

Glimmer pokes her head out the door. “Bow just wait out there!” Then she finds her tote bag, slings it over her shoulder, and she’s gone.

Adora’s shoulders sag in relief, and she hears Catra let out a breath. Adora turns to her and hisses, “See, this is why we can’t…do it again! Anyone could have walked through that door! This station is _tiny._”

Catra presses her lips into a line, but she nods after a minute. “Fine.”

Adora picks up her bag of stuff. She doesn’t think she can handle being in this room with Catra any longer without doing something she’s just suggested they definitely do not do. “Cool. Um. Well, it was…fun. See you tomorrow. Um. Bye now.” She backs towards the door.

Catra calls, just before she leaves the room, “Rematch, remember?”

Fuck, she really did suggest that. She tries to smile, and it probably looks more like a grimace. “Yep! Still on!”

And then she hightails it back to her room.

Of _course_ Glimmer is sitting cross-legged on her bed when she gets there, obviously waiting. She zeroes in on Adora the instant she comes in. “Tell me everything,” she commands.

Adora groans. “Can I shower first?”

Glimmer frowns. “Fine, but we’re having this discussion _right after!”_

Adora grabs her towel and walks down the hallway to the communal bathroom.

As she’s standing under the scalding hot water, she finally allows herself to actually think about what just happened. She just kissed Catra Romero. Adora closes her eyes and allows her forehead to gently hit the shower wall. How could she be so stupid? It was the heat of the moment, adrenaline from the game still running through her body. It was _so good_. Adora has never felt like that kissing _anyone_. She can’t stop replaying it in her mind. How Catra had felt against her, the heat of her mouth on hers—

Adora shakes her head.

She needs to get a grip. Whether or not kissing Catra had been a revelation, that’s the _last _time she ever will, ever can. It had been a one-off. Not to be repeated. She’d scratched that itch, thanks, and now she’s good. Right?

And that’s where she is when she marches back to her and Glimmer’s room.

Glimmer is lying on her stomach, playing a game on her phone, but as soon as Adora comes in, she’s bouncing upright. “So!” She sings, “Tell me all about Catra!”

Adora groans and flops face first onto her bed.

“Not what I was expecting,” Glimmer says, raising an eyebrow. “You and I both know what I walked into, c’mon Adora!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Adora mumbles into her bed. “Won’t happen again.”

Glimmer rolls her onto her side. “Okay so now maybe I don’t know what I walked into. Which is why you are going to _explain_ it to me.”

Adora scrambles up and walks over to her dresser to change into her PJs. She looks at that photo, once again sitting on top of her dresser, for a long minute. “So…Catra and I—we were roommates, at Etheria. All four years, actually.” Adora scratches the back of her neck. “And Catra was…she was…”

“Smokin hot?” Glimmer chips in cheerfully.

“…everything.”

“Oh,” Glimmer says, more subdued.

Adora turns to look at Glimmer. “I mean we were never together—“ She thinks about their relationship, takes stock of the shift in her memories that’s happened since earlier this evening. “Or. We kinda almost were, I guess, in some ways.” She laughs, “There were so many rumors about us on the hockey team. And we blew them off, because none of them were true.”

Glimmer raises an eyebrow. “Wait, I don’t follow. Catra’s _not_ your ex?”

Adora sputters, “Do you think I’d have a picture of my ex on my nightstand?”

Glimmer throws up her hands. “I don’t know, obviously you were _something_, and you were so freaking tightlipped about it that Bow and I figured it had to be that!”

That makes Adora pause. She frowns. “Wait, so all this time you thought I was working with my ex-_girlfriend?”_

“I mean, yeah I guess so.”

“Fuck,” Adora says quietly but vehemently. “That’s wrong. We never dated. We just had a sort of…uh, extremely close but totally platonic friendship?” Her voice pitches up at the end, suddenly unsure of herself given recent events.

Glimmer raises an eyebrow, but says, “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

So Adora does.

By the time she gets to their final months, Glimmer is spellbound, eyes getting wider and wider. Adora doesn’t leave any holds barred. She tries to tell it as objectively as she can, even when it makes her nauseous to say what she’d done.

She doesn’t talk about after college, because Catra’s not in that part.

When she’s done, she takes a deep breath. “So yeah. I wasn’t lying when I said we went to school together. I just might have, uh, left a lot of things out.”

Glimmer whistles. “Holy cow _yeah_.” She pauses. “So then you still haven’t told me what happened tonight.”

Adora pinches the bridge of her nose. “Bad decisions, that’s what. We—I…kissed her.”

Glimmer blinks. “What?”

Adora is blushing furiously. “We made out, okay? It was a stupid impulsive thing to do so don’t be a—”

“That’s it?” Glimmer laughs.

“Uh, what?” Adora says, nonplused.

“I thought you were fucking in the locker room!”

Adora’s eyes practically bug out. “What!?”

Glimmer snorts. “You were certainly weird enough when I came in, what was I going to think?”

“That—we were _not_ having sex in a public venue, _Glimmer!” _Adora hisses.

“Listen we live in what amounts to a box of hormones, where the best thing to do to stave off the boredom and _extreme _seasonal depression is have sex. I’ve _seen_ things, Adora.”

“…oh. Ok well, uh, that’s not what happened.”

Glimmer whistles. “Yeesh, ok so what now?”

“Um. We’re just…not going to. Again.” When Glimmer makes a face at that, Adora protests, “What? We can’t! Remember what happened with Scorpia and Perfuma?”

“Yeah…about that. Adora,” Glimmer says, “I saw my _mom_ in the middle of the game. Standing by the doors.”

Adora feels the blood drain from her face. “That’s bad,” she whispers.

Glimmer presses her lips together. “You and Catra aren’t the only ones who are gonna get the short end of it. Almost everyone at the station was either playing or watching the game. We were all complicit.” She grimaces, “I have no idea what she’ll do. But I thought you deserved a heads up.”

Adora grasps at straws. “Glimmer, can’t you, I dunno, talk to your mom?”

Glimmer scoffs. “You think I have _any _influence over her? If I did, trust me, things would be a _lot_ different around here. Pretty sure I’m only down here at all because she likes to keep an eye on me.”

Even with the current disaster that is her life, Adora recognizes shittiness when she sees it. She rubs Glimmer’s shoulder, and Glimmer sighs and leans into her. “Geez, I’m sorry Glimmer. I didn’t realize things were like that.” She ducks her head, “I’m not really good at, uh, understanding parental…relationships.”

“S’fine,” Glimmer sighs, “I just try not to think about it. Hang out with Bow. I know some people kind of stay at a distance because of my mom. But that’s nothing compared to being like, forbidden from seeing someone I was in love with.”

Adora sputters, “I’m _not_ in love—it’s—I mean I’m attracted to her, obviously, but I’m not in—“

Glimmer just rolls her eyes and grabs her towel. “Whatever you say, Adora. I’m gonna go shower.”

* * *

The next morning, Adora has an email in her inbox from Angella. _Subject: Meeting during your lunch break_

A cold ball of dread forms in the pit of Adora’s stomach. Given that Glimmer had seen Angella at the game, there’s no chance this is about something _other _than them switching teams.

Sea Hawk brings Adora to the ICL, and he must sense her feeling of impending doom, because he doesn’t fill the cab with chatter like he normally does.

The lights are on when she gets in, meaning Catra is here. Adora takes her time, makes her cup of coffee with creamer and sugar, and then even wipes down the counter to clean it of coffee rings. But finally, she knows she has to stop delaying.

And anyway, what is there to feel awkward about? They kissed, they both enjoyed it, now they’re moving on.

Adora walks into the lab, and Catra’s eyes dart over to her and back to her computer. “Morning,” Catra mumbles.

And, fuck. Because dammit, seeing Catra this morning, sleepy but clearly just as jittery as Adora just makes her think of last night again. Adora clears her throat. “Good—g’morning,” she says, and sits down at her computer and pulls up the last thing she was working on.

Luckily, this doesn’t require them to talk, because the tension is so high that Adora could play a damn sonata on it. Adora industriously hammers out code, unable to shake the feeling that Catra is watching her. But every time she glances over, Catra is just as focused-seeming on her computer. It is…extraordinarily difficult to prevent herself from daydreaming about Catra, about the kiss, about the deluge of thoughts of what she’d like to do if they ever kiss again that has apparently lodged in her brain since last night.

By the time it’s time for lunch, Adora is practically vibrating, and she’s relieved when Sea Hawk is the one who shows up to take them back to the station. Adora sits in the exact center of the bench in the trunk, and Catra practically presses herself to the passenger door. There is a good foot of space between them, which is. Good. Fine. What Adora wanted, after all.

But there’s no relief waiting at the station, because now she has the dreaded meeting with Angella. Adora grabs a bread roll and wolfs it down on the way to Angella’s office, but by the time she arrives, she wishes she hadn’t. She feels sick.

She knocks on the door, and hears a “Come in.”

Angella is sitting at her desk, fingers steepled and elbows resting on her desk. “Have a seat, Adora.”

Adora closes the door behind her and sits on her hands to prevent herself from fidgeting.

Angella frowns, “I happened to stop by the Solstice hockey game last night, Adora. I don’t often, as I am sure you are aware. Do you know what I saw?”

Adora cringes, but shakes her head _no._ Might as well play innocent.

Angella pins her to her seat with a look. “I saw one of my supervisees playing with the wrong team. Can you imagine my surprise when I _further_ noticed that one of Dr. Weaver’s was playing with Glimmer’s team?”

Adora swallows. “Dr. Brightmoon—“

“I’m going to give you one chance to explain yourself, Adora.”

“I—“ Adora takes a deep breath. She’s been thinking about this all morning. Then she says calmly, “It was a misunderstanding. I thought that Catra and I might play on the same team, since most members of the teams work together. I thought my playing with Scorpia’s team would prevent us from playing together. I know how much you emphasized that we not fraternize.” Adora pauses to gauge Angella’s reaction. “I assume Catra thought the same thing. We didn’t talk about it.”

She’s almost shocked at how easily the lie flows out of her mouth. Then again, it’s based in truth, as the best lies are. It may not make a whole lot of sense, but it doesn’t need to. All it needs to do is convince Angella that it’s something she would _do_.

“And you didn’t happen to think to communicate on which team you’d be playing on.” Angella studies her.

“Uh, no ma’am. I didn’t want to…cross any lines.”

“You did cross lines, just different ones.” Angella sighs and rearranges the pens on her desk. “Very well. If that is the case, then I can’t fault you. Still, I think it would be wise to create some…separation between you and Dr. Romero. I imagine it must be difficult to work with one of Dr. Weaver’s charges day in and day out. I would like you to work in the main station ICL lab for the next week, to give you a break.”

Angella couches it in friendly terms, but Adora knows a punishment when she sees one. She doesn’t _need _a break from Catra. She doesn’t want one. “How will we work together when we’re in two locations?”

Angella waves her concern away. “You can communicate via email. I’m sure you’ll find it easier than you think.” She pauses, must see the distress on Adora’s face. “I’m only trying to protect you, Adora. Dr. Weaver is a nasty woman. If she had been the one to see you two on the wrong teams…I don’t care to imagine what she would have done. And frankly, you should never have been working with Catra in the first place. This is just keeping the status quo.”

Adora wants to scream, _But you’re doing the same thing, forcing me out of my lab and away from Catra, even if you’re not purposefully cruel about it like Shadow Weaver! _It’s not fair. It’s not fair, it’s not right, and the more Adora sits here in front of Angella, who is acting benevolent, like she’s just granted Adora a fucking favor instead of completely disrupting her work, the more she fumes. But she keeps up that façade like her life depends on it.

“A break would be fine,” Adora says, barely keeping her tone in check. “I promise something like this won’t happen again.”

Angella nods, her demeanor shifting. “Well, that is all I wanted to talk about. You still have some time on your lunch break, and I know Razz made something delicious for lunch!”

“Oh. Okay, uh, good to…talk with you. Bye.” Adora says, fumbling for words in her hurry to get the fuck out of Angella’s office.

“Say hi to Glimmer for me!” Angella calls after her.

Adora grinds her teeth. _Say hi to her yourself, why don’t you?_

She’s still angry several hours later after a frustrating afternoon in her temporary lab. She should stay away from Catra, she really should. Instead, she texts her.

_Rematch?_

Only a second later, she gets a response. _ur on. 9 2nite._

Then: _bring ur A-Game, she-ra ;)_

Adora’s cheeks flush.

* * *

“So, what happened to you after lunch?” Catra asks as they sit together lacing up their skates. The rink is once again mirror-smooth, Entrapta’s Zamboni gadget apparently having done its job when given several hours to accomplish the task.

Adora glares at her skates as she tugs the laces aggressively. “I’ve been told to work in the station ICL lab for the next week.”

“What!?” Catra’s voice cracks. “That’s stupid! How are we supposed to do anything?”

“_E-mail_,” Adora spits venomously.

“What the fuck? Why?”

“Angella, _apparently_, stopped by the game. She saw us. She wants us to have breathing room or whatever. ”

“Ugh why is everything here such _bullshit?”_ Catra says, standing up and lacing her fingers behind her head to stare at the ceiling.

“Don’t get me started,” Adora grumbles, “I’ve been pissed about it all day.” Gone is the awkwardness of this morning. Something about hockey just allows her to feel looser, more relaxed. For whatever reason it’s easier to talk to Catra now. “Anyway. How do you wanna do this? We don’t have goalies or anything.”

Catra glides out onto the ice, sweeps around one curve of the rink, arms outstretched. “Thought this was your idea, you tell me!”

Adora steps on the ice with two sticks in hand, a puck in her pocket. She tosses one to Catra as she skates by. “I was thinking…goals only count past the Blue Line. First to...five, best of three.”

Catra raises an eyebrow. “Geez Adora, you trying to kill me or something after yesterday? No breaks out here when there’s just the two of us.”

Adora shrugs. “Fine. Games to three and we take water breaks in between. Good?”

Catra grins in anticipation. “Perfect,” she growls.

They skate to center ice, and Adora fishes that puck out of her pocket and places it on the ice. She glances around, then takes her position across from Catra, the blade of her stick resting on the ice. “On the count of three. One, two—“

“Wait!” Catra interrupts, and Adora stops. “On three or after three?”

Adora rolls her eyes. “Fine. When I say _go. But _I’m doing a countdown.” She repositions. “One.” Catra is meeting her gaze head-on, eyes narrowed, and Adora would love to get lost in those eyes. “Two.” A wispy curl of hair has escaped Catra’s ponytail. Adora takes a deep breath. “Three.” Catra is grinning, anticipation written in every line of her body. Adora knows she matches her exactly. “_Go.”_

Adora’s focus drops to the puck, putting all her effort into coming out with it. But Catra manages to end up with it, and she shoots it behind her into the boards, before turning over one shoulder and racing to catch it on the ricochet. Adora is after her, quick as a flash.

In a one-on-one game, Adora doesn’t have the breath to chirp Catra. All her effort is dialed into getting the puck away from her. She manages to snag it for a second, skids to a halt and heads towards her half, Catra hot on her tail.

As soon as she crosses the blue line she shoots, and the puck hits the back of the net and falls back down. Adora whoops. “One for me!” She goes and collects the puck. “Oh, uh, do we want to do a faceoff every time, or what?”

Catra makes a face. “Seems like a lot of work. If you score, other person gets possession from the goal.”

“Just what I was going to suggest,” Adora says, and tosses the puck back into the net. “Your turn.” Adora skates back to the center line, so she can pick up Catra whatever way she decides to go.

Catra snags the puck with her stick. She starts lazily skating down the ice in a sweeping arc. Adora keeps backing up, while also getting gradually closer to Catra. She won’t get close until Catra decides to put her foot on the gas.

Catra bursts into a sprint towards the goal, and Adora is instantly on her, physically bodying up on her shoulder to shoulder, sticks clacking against each other as they vie for the puck. Catra gets a hair ahead of her, and she takes a short little shot, sending the puck sliding lazily towards the goal. It would never be a good shot in a real game, but with no goalie…

Adora peels off of Catra and frantically tries to catch up, throwing herself to the ice and skidding after the puck, trying to cut off its path. She slows to a stop in front of the goal, and the puck gently taps against the blade of her skate and comes to a stop. Adora lies on the ice for a second, panting.

Catra cackles with glee. “Oh my _god_ Adora! I can’t believe you!” And then, she quickly skates around Adora to shoot the puck neatly in the net around her.

Adora groans and lets her head thump gently to the ice. “Not fair.”

“Stop trying to be a hero, you dork. C’mon.”

Adora gets to her feet and brushes off her knees, then collects the puck on her stick, just standing for a minute. She cocks her eyebrow. “Bet you’ll rethink when I beat you.”

Catra licks her lips. “Not a chance in hell.”

Adora rushes forward, skates hammering the ice, expertly guiding the puck. Catra’s right behind her of course, so Adora veers off towards the board, then changes direction right before she hits them. She hears an _oof _ and a thump behind her, but she’s got her eye on the prize. She shoots and scores, easy. As she glides in a circle to face Catra, she smirks.

Catra rolls her eyes as she takes possession. “Don’t get too cocky now.”

But Adora can’t help it. Going head to head with Catra is like stirring the embers of a fire. Her competitive side is out in full force, and it’s telling her to _win._ Beat Catra. Wipe that grin right off her face. And this is how she’s always played her best. Confident, focused.

Catra heads toward the goal, and this time Adora is on her from the start, forcing her into the boards. They draw within shooting range, but Adora puts all her energy into making Catra go past it, round the back of the goal. Then she manages to snag the puck, and tears down the ice.

Catra doesn’t body up on her this time, instead trying to do a little defending, managing to pass Adora and then force her to stop (she always was just a little faster), blocking her from taking a shot. They fight for possession, and then Catra manages to get it, and now they’re going back to the other goal.

Sweat is running down Adora’s neck, into her shirt. She’s also smiling, open mouthed so she can breathe. Catra’s teeth are bared in what is almost a snarl, but there’s no venom in it, just the exhilaration of the game.

Catra shoots, but Adora knocks it out of the way, and now it’s her puck. She doesn’t try fancy moves this time. Just goes for it, and shoots the instant she crosses the blue line. “Woooo!” Adora cheers. She takes a lap, just for fun, the blades of her skates pushing off the ice.

When she glides back to where their water bottles are sitting, Catra’s squirting water into her open mouth. Catra snorts and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Showoff.”

Adora sticks out her tongue at her. “Don’t be a snot.”

“A what?”

Adora grins. “A snot.”

Catra wrinkles her nose and tosses her water bottle on the floor. “Ew.” Then she comes at Adora, crouched low to the ice. “Why are you so—gross!” She hits Adora solidly in the hips with her shoulder, wraps her arms around Adora’s legs.

“Aah! What are you—!” Adora squeaks, as she’s suddenly lifted into the air over Catra’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Put me down!” she squeals, laughing, pounding her fists against Catra’s back and trying (and failing) to ignore Catra’s ass as she’s carried across the ice.

“Fine,” Catra grumbles, heaving her down, “You weigh a ton anyway.”

Adora winks. “All muscle.” She doesn’t know what possesses her to do that. She’s playing with fire. She clears her throat. “Time for game two?”

“You’re on.” Catra says.

This round is even more ferocious than the first one. Even more physical. Catra is the first to score this time, using her speed to eke enough separation from Adora to shoot. So Adora doubles down. They’re jostling each other for every foot of ice, and Adora is gasping for breath, but she manages a goal.

And then they’re back at it again. Catra checking her into the boards and stealing the puck, then Adora doing the same a minute later. Catra skates backward, mirroring her as Adora advances towards the goal. As she gets closer, Catra draws nearer to her, then finally commits her hips and comes alongside Adora as she’s forced into the corner.

They zip behind the goal to the other corner, shoulder to shoulder, Adora closest to the boards. She’s in possession, but Catra is trying her best to get Adora away from the goal. Adora’s not having it. She passes to empty space, squirms away from Catra to pick the puck up again, zooms over the blue line and scores, 2-1 Adora. She grins, lazily skating in an arc past the boards and into the center. “You’d better get your butt in gear Catra, because I’m about to win.”

Catra narrows her eyes as she collects the puck. She’s just as sweaty as Adora, head haloed by frizz against the gym lights. She says, “Never gonna happen,” and starts towards her goal. Adora mirrors her backwards, keeping a little space between them.

But when she looks up, Catra isn’t even watching the puck. She’s watching _Adora_, and when Adora meets her smoldering gaze and slows down just a hair, the corner of Catra’s mouth twitches.

That’s all the warning Adora gets before Catra slams into her, bracketing her against the boards. And Catra’s mouth is on hers, hands yanking Adora’s collar down to bring her closer. Adora responds enthusiastically, keeps her lips on Catra’s as she fumbles to strip off her gloves, then grabs Catra’s hips and pulls her flush against her.

Catra pushes into the kiss as she hurriedly takes her own gloves off behind her back and drops them to the ice, and then she’s hooking her elbows around Adora’s neck and reaching up, up, up to meet Adora (Adora has always been deeply satisfied in being taller). Beads of sweat slide down Adora’s face and neck from her hairline, and the palms of her hands are damp with Catra’s rapidly evaporating perspiration. Adora can taste it on her tongue, the salt. Objectively, they’re both disgusting. Subjectively, Adora doesn’t give a flying fuck. Subjectively, she kinda likes it. The only thing that matters is the way that Catra is ravishing her mouth the way she’s pushing Adora into the boards.

Several seconds past too late, Adora tears herself away. “Catra,” she pants, and she sounds…wrecked. Not the effect she was going for. She tries again. “What about…no kissing?” Her point is maybe made _slightly_ weaker by the fact that her entire front is pressed to Catra’s, and that despite the colossal willpower it took to stop, Adora’s still got one hand on Catra’s hip and one on the back of her neck. She doesn’t move either of her hands.

Catra darts forward to catch Adora’s bottom lip between her teeth, bites down just enough to sting a little. Pulls back slowly until she has to release Adora’s lip. The tiny zing of pain makes Adora’s breath hitch. Her eyes fall shut, she can’t help her head tilting back…

“What…” Catra purrs, kisses down the side of Adora’s jaw from her ear to the corner of her mouth, lets their lips brush the tiniest amount, then _doesn’t_ kiss her again like Adora desperately wants her to. “Do you want to…stop?”

That’s playing _dirty. _Adora opens her eyes just a sliver, looks right into Catra’s eyes. She swallows, shakes her head minutely.

When Catra kisses her again, Adora can feel her satisfied smile. Frankly, she couldn’t care less.

After a while, Catra pulls away. “Ok.” She bites her lip. “I totally started it but we really shouldn’t be doing this. Doing this _here_, I mean,” when Adora looks alarmed at the prospect of being cut off.

Only a short time ago, _she _was the one suggesting actually stopping. But her resistance has been completely banished in the face of…just how much she doesn’t want to. Adora tries in vain to push down the disappointment. “Uh…yeah. You’re right. But uh, you want to keep…doing this?” She asks tentatively.

Catra raises one eyebrow. “Obviously.”

“Ok. Good. Me too.”

“But we should really, uh, not do this here. Yesterday was close,” Catra says apologetically.

They disentangle from each other hurriedly. Adora combs her fingers through her hair. Catra pulls the hair tie out of her hair and ruffles it into its usual mane, then skates over to the bench with their water bottles. They’re done with this little match-up for sure, and Adora can’t help taking the opportunity. “So,” she says as she skates up behind Catra and hops off the ice, “Looks like I won.”

Catra scoffs. “I would have made a comeback, _obviously_.”

“Mmhmm, I was about to win that game,” Adora says, grinning as she starts to unlace her skates.

“_But_ you didn’t.”

“You’re wrong and I’m right!” Adora sings, “So what does this get me? Bragging rights?”

Catra gives her such a salacious look that Adora has to focus intently on taking off her skates to avoid tackling her right here and now. Frankly, if Adora had still been harboring any hopes that that the first time was just a fluke, they’ve been dashed to smithereens.

“Well. Good game.” Adora sticks her hand out.

Catra facepalms. “Seriously Adora?” But she takes Adora’s hand and shakes it anyway.

Adora shoulders her bag and they start walking towards the gym door. “So, any idea how long we’re gonna have this rink setup?”

Catra shrugs. “I dunno, until people get bored of it I guess. Last year we had it for like a month, it was sweet! Nothing like the Solstice game, but I organized some casual pickup. I _think_ Perfuma must have been an ice skater for at least a little bit? Girl’s got moves.”

“Nice!” Adora says. She’s a little confused, and a lot relieved that the tension of earlier is gone. Well, the bad kind of tension. She could get used to the other kind.

Her feet slow, then stop before they get to the door. Once they leave, they won’t be able to talk until tomorrow—actually, Adora’s not totally sure when, given her week-long exile. Catra doesn’t seem in any hurry either.

As they talk, about the pros and cons of the rink (mostly pros, as far as Adora is concerned. She’s terrible at basketball, which is what this room is normally used for) and the shenanigans Catra has seen people get up to at the station, Adora can’t help but thinking. This feels…normal, actually. More normal even, than it’s been in the last few weeks, and this morning was extremely uncomfortable. But it’s obvious that both of them would prefer to continue making out than not, and since Catra hasn’t said anything along those lines, Adora won’t either.

Adora’s not kidding herself, she knows that this is just them letting off steam, that once the winter is over whatever is currently bringing them together will dissipate. She probably won’t see Catra again unless they run into each other at a conference or something. Still, it’s pretty damn enjoyable so far. So Adora just won’t _think_ about it. She’ll just go with the flow. Have fun and not bring any (and there _aren’t _any) feelings into it.

It’ll be a piece of cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep it will be totally super easy to just keep emotions out of it, right Adora? XD  
And somehow, they just can't stay away despite the reprimand from Angella. Well that whole no-kissing thing was never gonna work anyway, huh? Nope. Also, for all y'all who loved the hockey+smooches combo this chap's for you. (It's me. I love it.)  
Also, @suricata-passer [drew some super awesome fanart](https://suricata-passer.tumblr.com/post/190788044382/so-i-finally-sketched-out-adora-and-razz-from) from chapter 12 of Adora helping Razz in the kitchen! <3 Check it out it's great! Also here's [a lil drawing I did](https://herothehardway.tumblr.com/post/190851299378/because-sometimes-you-decide-not-to-do-something) of them smooching from this chap :D The doodle turned out a lot more tender than the scene lol XD. Check out my tag #antarctica au on tumblr if you wanna see more of my doodles!


	15. Been lost to you

### Catra

Catra checks the time for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. When will her day be _over?_ When can she head back to the station?

She still has almost half an hour until she won’t feel guilty calling it quits for the day. She frowns at the latest output, then clicks over to her email.

There’s a new email in her thread with Adora. She opens it immediately.

_Hey Catra,_

_I do think this is looking promising, nice modifications! When do you think we could do a test run with some real data? Also, it occurred to me that when we feed it a bunch of data from the IceCube it’s going to take a lot longer. So I updated a parallelized version that should reduce runtimes significantly. Take a look and let me know what you think! And if it works we can run it next week when I’m back in the lab. _ _:)_

_Adora_

The last week hasn’t exactly turned out how Catra thought it would. The ICL is pretty lonely all by herself, not to mention creepy as fuck. It creaks in the wind, and the only other sounds are the hum of computers and the drip-drip of the coffeemaker. She’s taken to blasting music as loud as the speakers will go while she’s working, but then she gets paranoid about what she might _not_ be hearing.

She knows it’s probably just the winter finally hitting her. Making her ears put together random sounds and make a pattern out of them. Making her heart race whenever she goes to get coffee and sees something out of the corner of her eye. It’s all a lot of nothing, but that doesn’t prevent her understimulated brain from making shit up.

It’s just _worse_ by herself. Worse even than when she and Adora weren’t talking to each other. At least she had _company. _It’s also boring as hell. At least Adora can go talk to people in the other labs if she wants. Out here, the only person she can talk to is Double Trouble, to call for a ride. She sighs and opens their code repository. It’s the code that they’ve been working on for the past week, with Adora’s changes highlighted in green. She quickly scans it, then pulls it into to the actual program she has open and clicks “run”.

Sure enough, the program takes a fraction of the time it used to. Catra nods in satisfaction. This will work. She spends the next few minutes writing out what she got done today, and what she’s planning on doing tomorrow. She’s found it useful when brain fog starts to set in, to have a tangible piece of paper where she’s written all her thoughts. Otherwise it’s entirely possible that she could forget, and repeat everything again one day. Stranger things have happened.

_Finally_ it’s late enough that Catra can leave. She pings DT, then leans back in her chair and closes her eyes.

Yeah, she’s big enough to admit that it’s not just the companionship she misses. She just plain misses _Adora_. She didn’t realize how much she looked forward to going to work, as crazy as that sounds, until there was suddenly a gaping hole where a person used to be.

And it’s _doubly_ maddening, because out here at the ICL, they wouldn’t have to be cramming into storage closets or ducking into empty rooms before breakfast, or late at night, unable to completely forget that they could be discovered at any time.

Catra’s thoughts drift straight into recalling two days ago, when an innocent cleaning supply room had fallen victim to Adora’s molten gaze and Catra’s instant acquiescence. It had been extremely chilly, and also extremely nice. She’s only pulled out of her memory when the radio crackles to life.

_“I’m here!” _comes Double Trouble’s voice.

Catra leaps to her feet, grabs her coat and hurries out of the lab. She slides into the seat next to DT.

“Hey!” She says, almost bouncing in her seat. This interminable day is over.

DT raises their eyebrow. “What’s got you bouncing off the walls?”

Catra fights off the flush creeping up her neck. “Oh, uh, just happy to be done for the week!”

“Mmhmm. And I suppose it being the last day of your little…cool-down period has nothing to do with it?”

“Wh—what?” Catra sputters, “What cool-down period? What are you talking about? How do you know about it?”

Double Trouble rolls their eyes. “I’m the premier gossip seeker down here, I’m offended you’d think I _didn’t _know. And what exactly are you going to do when you get back, hmm?”

_“_What does that have to do with anything?” _Go see Adora. _Catra groans. “Look, the whole switching teams thing was stupid, we were bound to get caught, it’s whatever. Doesn’t mean Brightmoon isn’t being a dick about it.” She pauses. “I mean I’m glad _she_ was the one that stopped in, but…”

Catra and Double Trouble grimace simultaneously as they imagine the possible outcomes if Shadow Weaver had been the one to see.

DT gives her a sideways glance. “So, finally couldn’t keep your hands off Adora’s hot bod, huh?”

“Uh—“

“Relax, kitten. You two are like the star crossed lovers I never knew I needed to keep me going during this long and dreary winter.”

“We’re _not_ lovers,” Catra says sharply. “It’s just...” She trails off. They haven’t actually _talked_ about what they’re doing. It’s only been a week, and she’ll have to wait and see how things play out once Adora is back in the ICL. But so far, it’s pretty much been business as usual, just…plus a whole lot of kissing and stuff. Or whatever. Which she’s definitely _not _complaining about.

“_Do_ tell. It’s just…what?” Double Trouble prods.

Catra says angrily, “It’s just nothing, okay? Just like, a winter thing. You know how it is.”

“I’d almost think you were getting defensive, darling, but that would mean you were avoiding things,” DT says in a singsong voice.

“Ugh, just drop it, okay?”

Double Trouble just hums in response. Which isn’t exactly a yes.

The truck trundles across the ice, headlights catching ice crystals as they’re stirred up by the gusting wind. Catra slouches into the bench, crossing her arms unhappily.

Double Trouble doesn’t say anything, but they do keep shooting Catra _looks_.

“Will you stop that?” Catra finally snaps.

“So is she a good kisser?” DT shoots back lightning quick.

Catra can’t help snorting. “Mind your own business.”

“No can do, you _know_ I live for these juicy tidbits!”

“Ugh.” Catra tucks her chin into her chest. After a minute, she says, “Yeah okay she’s a really good kisser. Like. Really good. Happy now?”

“Perfectly,” Double Trouble says and grins cheekily at her as they pull into the vehicle bay.

* * *

Catra pokes her head into the station ICL computer lab. Adora is squinting at her screen, headphones on. She doesn’t seem to hear Catra come in.

Catra saunters over and perches on the edge of the desk next to her. “Hey Adora.”

Adora yelps and jerks back, eyes wide, and pushes back against her chair so hard it starts to tip. She frantically flails her arms before grabbing the edge of the table and pulling herself upright. Once she’s not in danger of falling, Adora tears off her headphones. “Gah! You startled me!”

“Obviously,” Catra smirks. “You are _way_ too easy to sneak up on.”

Adora’s cheeks flush. “I was listening to music!”

“_And_ too easy to embarrass.”

Adora goes even redder, which had been Catra’s goal. She slaps Catra’s thigh with the back of her hand, “Stop teasing me!”

“Stop teasing you…or what?” Catra murmurs and catches Adora’s hand from the edge of the desk and presses it back to her thigh.

Which make Adora’s eyes go darker and her fingers tighten on Catra’s leg. She stands up and yanks her headphones off, bumps her hip against Catra’s knees and Catra willingly opens her legs so Adora can stand between them. Adora leans forward to within a hairsbreadth of Catra. “Or…”

Catra darts forward, trying to catch Adora’s lips with hers but Adora moves away from her just as quickly, grinning. Catra can’t help the frustrated little whine that comes out of her. “Hey!”

Catra grabs one of Adora’s shoulders to try to get her to come back, but Adora braces against her, mouth pursed in an obvious attempt not to laugh. Catra wrinkles her nose. “No fair.”

Adora tilts her head and leans forward, and Catra’s eyes close in preparation for a kiss, but instead Adora mouths at the corner of her chin. “Or I’ll do it right back,” She murmurs. And then she proceeds to kiss up Catra’s jaw, and then down her neck, to her collarbone. She gently scrapes her teeth over Catra’s clavicle, and now Catra really couldn’t care less whether Adora _ever_ gets around to kissing her properly.

Catra lets her head fall back, closes her eyes, wraps her arms around Adora’s neck. If she can just keep doing that, that would be _fantastic. _

Adora pauses in her attentions to reach behind Catra and pull her right to the edge of the table. Catra hooks her ankles behind Adora, legs around her waist, and finally Adora kisses her on the mouth.

A minute, ten, later, Adora just…stands up? With Catra still wrapped around her? Adora just lifts her like she weighs nothing, grabs her thighs to hoist her up higher, and she just…walks over to the kitchenette counter, which is higher than the computer desk, and sets Catra back down. Catra lets out a breath. Wow.

“Fuck, geez Adora, skip leg day every once in a while,” she says, voice scratchy.

Adora bites her lip, grinning. “No. You _like_ it.”

Catra breathes, “Yeah, I do,” before catching Adora’s mouth in an electric kiss. There’s only so much she can take, _really. _This is a better angle, anyway. Now _she’s_ the one who’s higher, and the angle lets Catra actually sit on Adora’s hips. So really, that little maneuver was completely unnecessary.

Catra’s got one hand up Adora’s shirt and one squeezing her tricep, Adora’s face pressed into her neck, when her ears pick up footsteps in the hallway. She jerks away. “Someone’s coming!” She whispers frantically and disentangles herself from Adora.

Adora’s eyes widen. “_Shit._ Ok ok ok,” She says, looking around the room urgently. Catra does too, adrenaline rushing through her. It’s a tiny room. There are two desks and computers, which offer absolutely no places to hide, along with a couple hip-high filing cabinets, also a bust. There’s the sink and counter, which are flush with the wall. No helpful corners there. A trashcan—can Catra fit in a trash can? In her panic, it seems like a good option.

Adora’s eyes fall on the sink again and she yanks the cupboard doors open to peer inside. “Uh—ok here! Just squish yourself in here!”

Catra crawls inside next to a couple bottles of dish soap and cleaning spray and a tray of miscellaneous electronic cords, knocking things over. She cringes at the clatter, echoing a hundredfold in the small space. It’s a tight fit. The sink plumbing takes up a lot of the upper part of the cupboard, but Catra manages to hug her knees tightly to her chest and duck her head so her forehead is resting on the sink drainpipe.

Adora tries to close the cupboard door, and groans when it won’t shut totally. “Your—your foot!”

Catra strains to tuck it further into the cupboard, and Adora _shoves_ the door shut. Catra winces as her knee is painfully forced against the back of the cupboard as a result.

Someone opens the door.

Catra holds her breath, then lets it out as long and quietly as she’s able to. She inhales through her open mouth, lets it out again, heart pounding frantically. Her arm is pressed uncomfortably against some cleaning supplies, but if she moves it she’s scared they’ll tip over and make a sound.

“Hi Adora!” Comes Perfuma’s chipper voice. Catra’s shoulders sag minutely in relief. It’s not Shadow Weaver.

She’s not sure, actually, why she expected it to be. Shadow Weaver has no reason to come visit Adora, after all. Adora has probably never even spoken to Shadow Weaver.

Adora’s voice is right outside the cupboard. The sink turns on and there’s some clinking from above Catra’s head, then the sound of a cup being filled. The whooshing of water rushing down the drain fills the cupboard, and given Catra’s proximity, drowns out any sounds coming from outside. But after a few seconds, Adora turns the sink off and her voice moves away.

“Oh hey Perfuma! And hi Mermista,” She says, and years of familiarity mean Catra can hear the thin veneer of false calm that overlays the anxiousness she _knows_ Adora must be feeling. Only a few seconds previously, she’d been full on freaking out. Adora is surprisingly good at those transitions. It probably comes from hockey interviews, having to talk about a game in a neutral-positive way when she might be feeling anything but, and Catra is thanking her lucky stars that it’s coming in handy now.

“Sup,” Mermista says. Catra has never been able to quite figure Mermista out, but she thinks they might get along if given the opportunity.

Catra slowly, _slowly _maneuvers her head to face the cupboard door. There’s a thin sliver of light coming in from where Adora wasn’t completely able to close it slashing across her face. Catra’s shoe is still not _quite_ nestled in here tight enough. But instead of pulling herself into a smaller ball, she presses her toes forward to widen the gap just a tiny bit while not moving her leg. She wants to see what’s going on out there.

There’s a bottle of dish soap tilted precariously against her knee. If she moves at all, it’ll fall.

Through the narrow gap, Perfuma is standing in the middle of the room. An elbow is all she can currently see of Mermista. Adora is out of sight, and Catra is guessing that she’s back at her desk.

“So, uh, what’s up?” Adora asks.

“Flower Power wants to have a trivia night. Or something.” Mermista says.

“Yes!” Perfuma exclaims and clasps her hands together. Catra rolls her eyes. That girl has _way_ too much energy. “I was thinking, I mean, only if everyone wants to, but I was thinking we could have a _trivia night!”_

Adora’s voice again, and Catra really wishes she could see her. “Oh, uh, cool! Who were you thinking of, um. Having come?” Adora’s voice pitches up a little _too_ much. Catra winces. Play it cool, Adora. Please.

“Well, everyone, I guess?” Perfuma says. She sounds casual, but Catra can see that the knuckles of her clasped hands are white. “I just think, well, we all had so much fun last week at the game…it might be, um. Fun? To do something like that again!”

Catra is guessing this is more of an opportunity for Perfuma to get to see Scorpia. But she’ll give Perfuma that one, it’s a creative idea.

“Ugh,” Mermista says, and moves into Catra’s narrow rectangle of visibility so now she can see her in profile. Mermista waves her hand dismissively, already anticipating the question that Catra, at least, has. “We’d have, like, separate teams and stuff. Weaver’s people can make their own teams, we make our own teams. No overlap.”

Catra can almost _hear_ Adora’s frown. “That sounds fun, but I don’t know Perfuma…Angella was pretty mad about the Solstice game thing. Don’t you think this would be, uh…” Adora trails off.

“I already thought of that!” Perfuma says excitedly. “Double Trouble is going to organize it! I already talked to them and they were super excited when I suggested they could be the question asker!”

Mermista adds, “The host, she means. So like, if DT puts it on and says they came up with the idea because of their internal need to perform or put on a show, or whatever, as long as we stay on our own teams I don’t see a problem.” She makes a disgusted noise. “Angella and Shadow Weaver should be _happy_ we’re going against each other head to head. And Double Trouble is so dramatic and they’re _always_ going on about how they belong on the stage and stuff. Anyway, I’ve seen _Jeopardy!_ and I think Perfuma’s idea is totally in line with that.”

It’s getting hot in the cupboard. Hot and humid. Catra’s hamstring is cramping up, and she clenches her teeth to prevent herself from moving or making any noise. _C’mon Adora, just get them out of here. _She pushes the cupboard door open a hair more, trying to get some fresh air, trying to see a little more of the room.

“So, wanna come?” Perfuma asks, smiling hopefully.

“Sounds fun,” Adora says hesitantly, “but only if you’re _positive _that this will be cool with the bosses.”

“Yeah we’ll fly it by them, or whatever,” Mermista says, brushing Adora’s comment away. “I’m pretty sure they’ll be chill. I mean, I’ll ask Angella. Someone else can do Weaver.”

“I can, uh, talk to Scorpia,” Perfuma says tentatively. “I mean, I’ll text her. Since she’s usually sleeping during the day…”

“Ok well uh, see you at dinner?” Adora says and stands up, bringing part of her into Catra’s view. Adora’s eyes dart over to her, and when she sees the large crack in the cupboard, her eyes widen a fraction. She jerks her head minutely, clearly telling Catra to shut the door. Catra does not. Catra can _see _Adora clench her jaw, but she focuses back on Perfuma and Mermista.

“Oh, you’re not done yet?” Perfuma asks.

“I just have to, uh, wrap some stuff up before I’m done for the day.”

“Okay!” Perfuma says, and looks around the room. “I’ve never been in here before, it’s cozy!”

Adora scratches the back of her neck. “Uh, yeah. It would be pretty cramped if we had to work here all the time.”

“Bet Angella would throw a fit if you did,” Mermista states matter-of-factly. “There’s no way you’d be allowed to be assigned to a different boss as Catra if you worked here every day.”

“I mean, this _is _where we’ll be if there’s a major storm or something…” Adora says.

Mermista leans on a table. “Yeah we’re pretty lucky no big storms have happened this winter. Yet.”

That’s true, it _has _been lucky. Last year, Catra and her partner had been stuck in here for a week at a time, half a dozen times, as the station had been buffeted by weather system after system. It had been too close quarters for any real comfort. If she and Adora get stormed out of the ICL, they’ll have a slightly different problem. Too close to get any work done, probably.

“Ok well I’ll catch up to you guys!” Adora says brightly, trying again to get them to leave.

This time it takes. “You’re such a hard worker, Adora!” Perfuma says, “Don’t work _too_ hard, okay?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Adora responds, smiling. Catra brutally cuts off the snort that was about to come out of her. Adora is the last person to make that kind of promise.

“I heard Razz is making a veggie stir-fry,” Mermista says, and turns to leave, “Which is like, my favorite thing she makes, but it’s chill. But I wanna be first in line.”

Perfuma trails after her, after shooting Adora one last look. “Okay see you in a little bit!”

The instant the door clicks shut behind them, Catra tumbles headfirst out of the cupboard. “Oh my god,” she groans, lying on her back on the floor and taking deep breaths of the cool air. She stretches her right leg out, the one that has the cramp, and lets out a sigh of relief. “Could you have taken any longer?”

Adora collapses into a chair and slouches down. She seems exhausted. “I was _trying!” _she says, looking contrite, “It’s not my fault they wouldn’t leave!”

Catra closes her eyes and lets her heart come back to its normal rate. “_Fuck_ that was stressful.”

_“Hah_, yeah,” Adora lets out. After a pause, “Did that code work? That I sent?”

Catra is content to just lie on the floor and come to grips with the close call, but her stomach rumbles. She groans and rolls onto her front. “Yeah, it worked. Ugh, can’t wait for next week.”

“Oh, uh, why?” Adora asks, and Catra glances up at her tone of voice. Adora’s got her eyes open now, eyebrows creased a little. She just looks so worried.

Catra wants to smooth her thumbs across those eyebrows until they relax, until Adora relaxes. Which is just really _not_ in line with this whole thing they’re doing. She flushes and says quickly. “Because it’ll be so much easier to get work done. Why did you think?”

“No reason. Yeah. We won’t have to email code.” Adora says, just as quick.

“…also,” Catra adds, “the ICL is creepy as fuck when I’m there by myself all day. It’s just better to have you there too. And, uh,” she hesistates, “Swiftwind too. If you want. As long as you keep him _out_ of the computer lab!”

Adora grins. “Really? I thought you didn’t like me bringing him!”

“…I didn’t. I’ve had a change of heart. He’s, uh, not a bother, or anything.” Catra says reluctantly. Secretly, Swiftwind has grown on her. Like moss. And Adora obviously loves bringing him in to work. And look, Catra just really wants Adora back in the ICL, where she belongs. She doesn’t want her going and thinking that Catra _prefers_ this separation thing.

Adora beams. “Yay! I’ll bring him on Monday then!”

Catra finally gets to her feet, and stretches out her arms. It feels incredibly good to not be in that fucking cupboard. “Ok. Well, uh, I’m gonna head to dinner. See you. On Monday, I guess?” Monday feels like a long time away right now. It would be so nice if they could just…eat dinner together.

Seeing Adora playing with _her_ team made Catra realize that probably, they’d loved Adora. She can see her getting along with Lonnie. Scorpia told her what Adora did to help her. Adora would fit right in with her friends. But she can’t even eat dinner with them.

And honestly? Catra really enjoyed playing with Team Blue. Glimmer is more of a spitfire than she’d thought, and she’d love to hang with her and Bow, actually (Not that she’s planning on ever calling Glimmer her real name if she can help it). It was interesting talking to Perfuma, and now Catra understands way better why exactly Scorpia likes her. Obviously Catra likes her existing friends. But the game really emphasized just how artificial the division between the two factions is.

Adora bites her lip at Catra’s mention that they won’t see each other until work in two days. “…what are you doing tomorrow?”

Catra shrugs. “Sleeping, finishing my book, might fuck around and make some cinnamon rolls or something.”

“Oh. Sounds busy.” Adora sounds crestfallen. She glances at her computer, opens her email quickly and then closes it again.

Catra sighs. “Spit it out.”

“Storage Bay D 3 o’clock?” Adora rushes, then stands abruptly and turns away to grab her sweatshirt.

“Can’t get enough of this hot bod, huh Adora?” Catra teases. Her point is somewhat weakened by the fact that she very obviously came looking for Adora this evening with the express purpose of making out with her. _She’s_ the one who can’t get enough of Adora’s hot bod.

Adora grins, attitude back in place. “You know it. Be there or be square.”

Catra raises an eyebrow, heading for the door. “Guess I’ll be square then.”

“We’ll see tomorrow!” Adora calls after her. There’s no world in which Catra would miss it, but she kinda likes making Adora work for it, just a little. Call her a contrarian.

Catra strides purposefully towards the cafeteria. She should _not_ be this affected by Adora’s banter. They’ve said almost the same things for their entire relationship. And yet she can’t help smiling as she heads to dinner, replaying their banter in her mind. She’s being stupid. Obviously if Adora had any kind of feelings-feelings, she’d instantly want to talk about it. Adora can’t handle anything undefined or vague. She likes things to be clear-cut and straightforward at all times, and she’ll blunder through any awkwardness in her path until she gets the clarity she wants.

So Catra is both comforted and…disappointed, that she’s so confident that if Adora _did_ think about this in any way beyond physical, she’d bring it up immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew that was a close one! If y'all thought they'd play it safe At All, you'd be quite wrong. Turns out Angella's well-meaning attempt to separate the two of them only made the heart grow fonder. Well, what she doesn't know won't hurt her!
> 
> Also, @jem-jarrett did [this amazing fanart](https://twitter.com/jem_jarrett/status/1229626634061271040?s=21) of Catra and Adora's little confrontation pre-kiss in the locker room for chapter 13! Go check it out, it's amazing!!  
And I drew [Adora's framed picture of them](https://herothehardway.tumblr.com/post/190896267583/that-photo-the-one-that-ya-know-represents-how) finally, after several attempts XD


	16. Strap the wing to me

### Adora

It’ll be a piece of cake.

Adora’s own words have echoed in her head constantly since the night of their rematch, mocking her. Go with the flow. Just keep it casual.

The problem is, Adora has never been capable of being _casual_ about a single thing in her entire life. She’s thinking about those words when they meet up in Storage Bay D on Sunday. She thinks Catra noticed her distraction, which is the _last_ thing she wants. The last thing she wants is for Catra to ask her what’s up, what she’s thinking about.

She’s glad Catra doesn’t, though.

She doesn’t know what she’s thinking about. Just that she’s thinking about it almost constantly.

The problem, Adora thinks as she escapes Perfuma’s pleading eyes and minor guilt tripping a week later, is not that she doesn’t want to go to trivia.

The first night was a smash success, from what she’s heard. Big turnout, everyone had a lot of fun, and Angella and Shadow Weaver had okayed it without a fuss. They’ve started having Friday night trivia every week, and there’s a whiteboard with the team stats for the different teams. Adora hasn’t gone. Instead, she’s begged off and every Friday night she holes up in her room and works on her thesis.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to play. She _does. _She likes that kind of thing, and she’s great at trivia! Which she’s carefully avoided telling Bow every time he’s asked her to join him and Glimmer on a team.

And she’s made a lot of progress with her thesis, too. Weirdly, it’s been easier to work on post-panic attack. It only gives her a _little_ spike of nerves whenever she opens the document recently. She printed everything out last week, and started cutting it up and organizing the sections on her bed. Hours later, when Bow and Glimmer had tipsily tumbled into the room post-trivia, she’d had a passable combined draft. So now she’s been writing linking sections and transitions, and really it hasn’t been that bad. She’s almost through a real first draft of the integrated thesis.

Adora feels excited about writing in a way she hasn’t felt in a long time, and she has Catra to thank for that. She should really tell her how helpful she was, at some point.

No, the reason Adora’s avoiding trivia is that she’s positive that every inch of her is oozing guilt, admission that she and Catra are trying their best to break every rule in the Amundsen-Scott handbook. She _knows _once everyone sees her in a room with Catra, they’ll see just how much they’ve been _fraternizing_ written all over her. _And,_ even though she told Glimmer (and by extension Bow) that she’d kissed Catra that first time, the more people know a secret, the more likely it is that the wrong people will get wind of it. And she definitely hasn’t mentioned their ongoing arrangement.

She really doesn’t want anyone to come to the wrong conclusions. Or come to any conclusions before she’s figured out exactly what conclusions they should come to.

She just…wants to be around Catra, talk to Catra, get it on with Catra, do, well, everything with her. She can’t, and it’s kind of driving her nuts. Their texting rate is through the roof, and every time Adora whips out her phone when it buzzes Catra’s buzz tone, every time she responds less than a minute later, she feels that twinge of guilt reminding her that not only is what they’re doing against the rules, it’s also potentially dangerous to their _careers_.

But even in the ICL lab, she feels herself gravitating towards Catra as soon as she takes her mind off it for a moment. She follows her to the kitchenette to refill coffee before she gives it a second thought. She asks her questions about their code that she really already knows the answer to, if she thought about it for a minute. She tells herself it’s because it’s just _easier_ to ask Catra. But that’s a lie. She just wants to hear what her lab partner has to say.

So far they’ve managed to restrain themselves and work on work while they’re in the lab. But Adora wouldn’t be surprised if that too goes out the window soon. It’s quite simply the most isolated place at the South Pole they have access to.

And honestly, this is probably the most functional the two of them have ever been. In college there was always this _tension_. Generated by their inherent power balance, by what eventually was revealed to be Catra’s resentment, by Adora’s self-centeredness. It hadn’t exactly been easy to be the captain of your best friend. And it probably hadn’t been easy being best friends with, living with, the captain either, when she thinks about it.

And then there had been their constant competition to beat each other academically. She knows now that that was one thing wrong with their whole thesis project. They were, in a way, trying to outdo each other instead of really collaborating, and what “good” looked like was too different for that to ever turn out well.

It’s like night and day, comparing that collaboration with their current one. Their only goal is to have a functional ICL by the end of the winter, and of course Catra still motivates Adora to think harder, figure out what to do next. She won’t lie, she gets a little thrill every time she beats Catra to the punch solving their latest problem. But the energy is just…totally different. And infinitely better. Even not including the whole hooking up in storage bays and closets and empty station offices thing.

So quite simply, Adora is worried that the instant they start playing trivia, everyone will be able to see just how much she’s, well, vibing with Catra. Way too much for their status as colleagues to explain it.

It’s not like the hockey game. That was all high energy, and after all they _did_ play together for such a long time. If anyone bothered to look into their college days, that would probably be good enough to explain the electric energy the game had.

Which is why she’s slouched on her bed, writing a first draft Conclusions section, while Glimmer and Bow are talking about possible categories for tonight’s game on Glimmer’s bed.

Bow is leaning up against the wall, Glimmer’s head in his lap. He idly combs through her hair with his fingers.

Bow lists on one hand, “Last week there was a marine biology section, a horror movie section, and a US politics section. And there’s been one category having to do with one of the research groups every week. We did a climate one two weeks ago, and I can’t remember the first week.”

“Think it was hydrology themed,” Glimmer mumbles, eyes closed. “Aunt Casta was actually good at that one, remember?”

Bow grimaces. “Yeah, before we discovered how terrible she is in general at trivia.” He looks hopefully over to Adora. “You sure you don’t want to come? If we had you we could make Casta play with Spinnerella and Netossa!”

Adora can’t handle those puppy eyes. “I dunno…”

Glimmer senses the weak point, like a shark. She pops upright. “Yes, you do want to! I just know you’ll be great at it. My aunt has been joining us, but she is _really bad _at trivia and is, you know, my aunt. And one of the categories is almost definitely gonna be Astro themed! Please?”

Fuck, two sets of puppy dog eyes. “This is coercion,” Adora grumbles, but she shuts her laptop.

An hour later, she’s reluctantly being dragged to the cafeteria for trivia.

The tables have been moved to form a little semicircle, and they have fancy black cloth tablecloths. There’s a lecturer’s podium draped with a silver glittery garland. There’s even a projector set up, along with one table with a variety of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages. She, Bow and Glimmer all grab a drink and pick their table. Adora scans the room. Perfuma, Mermista and Sea Hawk are chatting at one table, and Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio are sitting together on the other side of the semicircle. A couple minutes later, Castaspella, Netossa and Spinnerella come in. Netossa and Spinnerella sit down at one of the tables next to Adora’s team, but Casta beelines straight towards them.

Glimmer stifles a groan. She says brightly, “Hi Aunt Casta!”

“Hello Glimmer! I see you’ve replaced me.” Casta says, staring pointedly at Adora.

“Uh, well…” Glimmer starts, “I just thought you might want to…play with Netossa and Spinnerella instead?”

“It’s fine, of course, I’m not _offended_, but you could have said something if you didn’t want to play with me! I’m sure it is _uncool_ to play with your aunt.”

“No that wasn’t it at all! Er—” Glimmer looks mildly panicked.

Fortunately, Bow comes to her rescue. “This is Adora’s first time at Trivia, Casta!”

“Really?” Casta says, her demeanor shifting from slightly aggrieved, to delighted. “How wonderful! Trivia Night is so fun, you’ll love it Adora!” She turns back to Glimmer, “I suppose that makes sense, dear. I forgive you. Well, I’ll leave you young people alone! Have fun, and good luck!”

With that, Casta goes back to her table. Glimmer sags in relief. “Thanks, Bow.”

Bow grins, “No problem.”

In the meantime, Catra, Scorpia, and Entrapta have shown up, filling the last empty table. There must have been some kind of sign-up list. Adora carefully keeps her attention on Bow, who is talking about some kind of practical joke Sea Hawk pulled on Perfuma this afternoon, but she isn’t absorbing a word he’s saying. _Don’t look at her don’t look at her don’t look at her don’t—_

“Adora?” Bow interrupts her train of thought and she blinks.

She realizes she’s been fixedly staring at Bow for at least a minute. She shakes her head minutely and plasters a smile on. “Oh sorry, spaced out for a second! Wow, that’s so funny!”

Bow frowns, “You think that’s funny? I don’t think _Perfuma _thought it was funny.”

Adora is saved from having to answer because just then, Double Trouble struts into the cafeteria carrying a clipboard and computer. They’re wearing sky-high heels and a smart blazer and trousers, hair swept into an elegant updo, with a classy string of pearls and matching earrings. “Welcome to Trivia Night number three everyone!”

They stride up to the podium and put down their computer, then turn to face the room. Their eyes land on Adora and Double Trouble raises their eyebrows a fraction. But they start handing out paper and pencils to all the teams. “Last week, Kelpies put on _quite _the show, winning for the first time! But they’re not the team to beat.”

Mermista’s table gives a small cheer.

DT continues, “No, the team to beat is Operation Sting! They took second last week, and overall have the most points!” They give a little flourishing bow. “Now, I am but your humble host. But I can’t say I won’t be egging you on! I will say each question twice, give you a minute to write, and then we move to the next question. We’ll have three rounds, and there will be _no_ follow-up questions! Now, let’s get started!”

The general sounds of shuffling fill the cafeteria as everyone gets close to their papers.

Just then, Frosta pokes her head into the cafeteria. After a couple seconds, she walks up to Double Trouble, arms crossed tightly across her chest. Adora hears her ask quietly, “Can I play?”

Double Trouble glances at the teams and frowns. “Well, all the other teams have three people already…”

Frosta’s face drops. “Oh…”

Double Trouble continues, “But I’ll make an exception this time, seeing as you are,” they frown, “wow kids just keep getting smaller…ten years—“

“Eleven and three-quarters!”

“—eleven and three-quarters years old. Who would like to add Frosta to their team, as a fourth member?”

Nobody says anything, and as the seconds tick by, Adora’s stomach flips on behalf of Frosta. She’s just a kid, she shouldn’t feel bad about wanting to play. So she pipes up, “Come join our team, Frosta!”

Frosta’s face breaks into a smile and she pulls a chair over to their table, “Hi Bow, hi Adora, hi Glimmer!”

Glimmer is shooting Adora a _look_, but Adora is _not _about to let a kid think nobody likes her, even if it apparently annoys Glimmer.

“Hi Frosta,” Adora says kindly, “Have you been to Trivia before?”

“No. My grandma said I needed to interact with people more. She said it was,” Frosta does air quotes, “_important for my social development _or something.” She rolls her eyes.

“It’s my first time too,” Adora says.

“Cool! Glimmer is it true that ice cores have air trapped from thousands of years ago?” Frosta asks.

Glimmer nods. “Yeah, sure is. Sometimes we take samples of it.”

“That’s so cool! So wooly mammoths and stuff breathed that air?”

“Probably,” Glimmer nods.

“Awesome!” Frosta says excitedly.

“Ready your pencils and paper!” Double Trouble calls above the murmur of people talking.

Adora glances self-consciously at her beer and leans over to whisper to Bow, “Should I be drinking this in front of her!?”

Bow laughs, “You’re fine, Adora.”

Adora hesitates, then takes a tiny delicate sip.

“Ok, first question,” DT says, “In 1925, a relay team of sled dogs and mushers were used to bring a crucial diphtheria antitoxin to Nome, Alaska. What was the name of the dog who led the the _farthest_ distance leg of the trip?”

Murmurs fill the air as teams put their heads together. Glimmer furrows her brow. “Balto, right?”

“Yeah isn’t there an old movie about it?” Bow says.

“Uh, I think it was Togo,” Adora whispers, “Balto was the lead dog but Togo ran more of the journey.”

Bow’s pencil hovers over the paper and he raises his eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah! I got really into learning about sled dogs when I got Swiftwind.” At the blank looks around the table, she says, “Cuz Samoyed’s are sled dogs?”

“Ok, Togo it is,” Bow mutters and writes it in.

“Question number two! Which polar explorer said the following quote: Victory awaits him who has everything in order?”

“Uh…” Adora draws a blank.

Bow says, “That’s Roald Amundsen, right?”

Glimmer nods confidently and writes it down. “Yep, when his expedition made it to the South Pole.”

The rest of the questions in the round follow the theme of Arctic and Antarctic historical trivia. The last question is, “What is the fastest species of penguin?”

Adora looks at Bow and Glimmer, stumped. “Uh, I only know like two kinds of penguin…”

“Same.” Glimmer says.

Frosta, who has been mostly quiet until now, pipes up. “It’s the Gentoo penguin. They can swim up to 22 miles per hour!”

All three of them look at her in surprise. Bow raises an eyebrow and asks, “How do you know that?”

Frosta shrugs, “I have a book about different kinds of penguins. I really liked penguins when I was like, ten.”

Glimmer nods. “Okay, I’ll write that down. Way to go.”

After they finish the round, DT says, “And _that _is our first round! Send a member of your team up with your answer sheets!”

Glimmer gives DT their answer sheet and sits back down. She takes a drink of her beer. “Well I think that round went pretty well!”

“Really? I’m not very confident about number four…” Adora says.

“That was a tough one,” Bow agrees, “but I bet nobody else got it either.”

Frosta turns to Adora, “Swiftwind is your dog, right?”

Adora grins, “Sure is!”

“Do you think I could play with him one day?”

“I usually throw a ball for him before and after work. You can come tomorrow if you want.”

“Sweet!” Frosta says, and pulls out her Switch, instantly becoming engrossed in it.

Adora finishes her beer and gets up to get another one. “Anyone else want another drink?”

“Me!” Glimmer says.

Adora heads over to the drinks table and snags a couple more.

“And we have our Round One Totals!” Double Trouble declares, and walks over to a paper taped to the wall.

“Team Casta ends the round with…four points!”

Groans come from Casta, Netossa and Spinnerella.

“Sparkle Squad ends with…eight points!”

Glimmer whoops and fistpumps the air. She whispers, “I _knew_ we’d do better with you!”

Adora grins. “Sparkle Squad? You come up with that?”

“Lonnie and the Jets ends with…six points!”

Kyle seems thrilled, but Lonnie shakes her head in disappointment.

“Kelpies scored seven!”

Perfuma turns to Sea Hawk, “I knew we should have gone with Amundsen!” she hisses, and Sea Hawk looks apologetic.

“And Operation Sting ended with nine, making them the team to beat once again!” Double Trouble tosses the end of their feather boa over their shoulder.

This time, Adora figures it’s safe to look. Scorpia cheers in celebration, but Adora is really only paying attention to one person. Catra just crosses her arms and smiles in satisfaction. Adora quickly turns back to her own team. She catches Glimmer studying her. “Stop that!” She hisses under her breath.

“Didn’t say anything,” Glimmer murmurs, but her mouth twitches.

“Now, on to the next round! I’ll spoil you a _tiny _bit and tell you that the theme is pop culture, so I hope you’ve been keeping up with things back home!”

The next round passes quickly. Glimmer is surprisingly knowledgeable about TV and movies, and Bow is familiar with the music side of things. Double Trouble keeps up a steady stream of mostly-useless or misleading patter while they all think about each question.

After this round, they get eight points again, beating out Catra’s team by two points. That leaves them in the lead by one, with the other teams behind by a few points. Adora finishes her drink and goes to get another one.

The third round is Geography, and this time, Sparkle Squad doesn’t do quite as well. They only rack up five points, with Frosta having most of the answers. _Apparently_, she was really into memorizing maps when she was nine. Adora thinks that you must be really bored to memorize maps in your free time, as a nine year old.

Double Trouble comes out from behind from the podium. “And this is _delicious. _We have…a tie!” They tap their fingers against their chin. “Hmm, what to do, what to _do_. I know!” They light up, “We’ll have a one-on-one trivia-off!”

They start shuffling papers, and peer closely at their laptop.

Adora looks at her teammates in confusion. “Is this what usually happens?” She whispers.

Bow shakes his head. “We haven’t had a tie at the end of three rounds before.”

Adora clears her throat and speaks up. “Who, uh, who are the tied teams?”

Double Trouble straightens up and strokes their pearls. “Oh, terribly sorry! Sparkle Squad and Operation Sting are tied for first!” They squint at their laptop again. “Oh, _perfect_. Please nominate one member of your teams to represent you in the _live _round! And I’ll give another little hint. The topic will be…Astronomy!”

Glimmer, Bow, and Frosta instantly fixate on Adora. She shifts uncomfortably. “…what?”

“I nominate you,” Bow says quickly.

“Same,” Glimmer says.

Frosta nods. “Yep me too.”

Adora’s heart hammers. “Well _I _nominate….Bow!”

Her three _traitorous _teammates simultaneously cross their arms. Glimmer says, “Sorry Adora, but you’re overruled. You’re representing us.”

“You’re a freaking _astrophysicist _getting your PhD in _Astronomy!” _Bow exclaims.

Adora grumbles, “I didn’t even want to come to trivia.” But she knocks back the rest of her beer, gets up and walks slowly up to the podium. And realizes that she’s swung straight into tipsiness without really realizing it.

When she gets there, she oh-_so_-casually turns to see who Operation Sting is picking. Please let it be anyone but Catra, _please_. Adora doesn’t think she’s got a good enough grip on herself unless she full-on ignores Catra.

Catra and Entrapta are having a heated argument. “No, _you_ should go!” Entrapta exclaims, “You have the most background, it’s the only logical choice!”

“No, it’s not! Entrapta, you’re the smartest person I know! You remember everything! You’d be better.” Catra says, and crosses her arms.

“I am an engineer, not an astrophysicist!” Entrapta protests. “Thank you for flattering me but there’s a greater than 55% chance that you will win if you go. I have less than a 20% chance, given that we’re going up against Adora, who is an astrophysicist, _like you!_”

Scorpia is looking back and forth frantically as her friends volley. She cuts in. “Look, chill out. She turns to Catra apologetically. “I think you should go Catra, stop avoiding it.” Catra has her back to the front of the room. Adora can’t see her expression.

Catra reluctantly stands up. She takes a long gulp of her cider, and Adora loses a second watching the curve of her throat, the way her muscles work as she swallows. She blinks and tries to stare at Scorpia instead, but Scorpia is narrowing her eyes at Catra, so Adora just ends up looking at her again.

Catra slams her cider onto the table, wipes her mouth, and saunters up to the podium, and Adora’s eyes are glued to her now, which is bad since everyone is watching either her or Catra right now. But damn, does Catra look hot as hell. She’s exchanged her customary puffy vest for a black leather jacket, and one of her many Henley shirts for a…a cropped black band t-shirt. Adora is just buzzed enough that she can’t tear her eyes away.

Adora quickly turns back to Double Trouble as Catra takes her place beside her, and tries in vain to get her thoughts back in order. She’ll just not look at Catra. That’ll be good, right?

“Well, this is _exciting_,” Double Trouble says, squinting at their computer screen, “This will really test the…_boundaries_ of your knowledge, you could say. We’ll do a little Jeopardy-style competition for this round. Put your hand on your forehead to buzz in. And remember to format your questions in the Jeopardy! style!”

Catra snorts from beside her. “You want us to smack ourselves in the face to buzz in?”

“Well, only if you want to _win_, of course,” Double Trouble says slyly. They wink. “Oh, and there will only be a seven question speed round, so we don’t end up with another tie.”

Adora narrows her eyes at them. DT’s eyes flick to her, then back to Catra, then back to her. They smile, and suddenly Adora is getting a bad feeling about this.

They lean forward on their elbows and rest their chin in their laced fingers. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Adora’s pulse races. Her brain is just playing a loop of Catra walking up to the podium. That narrow band of skin exposed between the raw edge of her shirt, and her jeans. The nonchalant way she’d strolled up to take her place next to Adora. The amount that Adora wants to just turn and feast her eyes. She shakes her head a tiny bit. Just think about the questions, Adora. That’s all that matters. Don’t think about Catra just think about Astronomy.

“Number one. Jupiter has this many moons.”

Adora reflexively slaps herself _hard_ in the forehead (which does wonders to make her focus back in), then looks quickly over at Catra, who also has a hand to her forehead. Fuck. She already broke her rule.

She hears snorts of laughter from around the room, undoubtedly due to the sight of them simultaneously smacking themselves.

DT says, “Catra?”

Dammit.

Catra says confidently, “What is seventy-nine?”

“Nope. Adora?”

Adora frowns. “Jupiter does have 79 moons though…”

Double Trouble raises their eyebrow. “I have here a different number.”

Adora crosses her arms. “Well you have an outdated total if it’s less than 79. That’s my answer too. How many do you think it has?”

DT sighs, “Sixty-nine. Well that’s…inconvenient.”

Adora snorts. “Nice,” she mutters, “Okay but you have to do a different question. Or give Catra the point for being right.”

Behind her, she hears Glimmer groan. But it’s only fair, right? Catra got it right and beat Adora to the punch. She _should_ get the point.

Double Trouble grimaces, and then they give one tally mark to Operation Sting on the board behind them.

“Next one. This member of the Apollo 11 mission never set foot on the moon.”

Adora smacks herself in the face. When she glances over, Catra is frowning, hand twitching but not up. _Yes._

“Adora?”

“Who is Michael Collins?” After DT nods, she’s not sure what compels her to argue, “That’s _not _an Astronomy question! That’s space travel!”

“It’s all space to me, darling,” Double Trouble says dismissively, giving her a tally mark. “Are you going to debate every question?”

Adora flushes. “_No_, but I just…think you should have better questions!”

Bow calls out, “Objection! Categories must be accurately described!”

Adora turns and looks back to her table. Bow’s arms are crossed. He offers her a smile to her. “You guys are astrophysicists, not astronauts!”

Adora nods vigorously in agreement.

DT rolls their eyes, “We’re not in a court of law, Bow, so your objection is overruled. But,” they peer at their computer, “I believe that’s the only objectionable question. Next one,” they clear their throat, “The sun, in a heliocentric model.”

This time Adora can _hear_ Catra’s _smack_ at almost the same time as hers. Double Trouble frowns. “I believe that was Catra.”

Catra grins, and when she takes her hand off her forehead, Adora sees a pink spot starting to form. “What is the center of the universe?”

“That’s correct. Perfect wording too,” Double Trouble says, and their eyes flick over to Adora. They quirk their eyebrows and she averts her gaze to study the glittering decorations on the podium, then, irresistibly, to Catra.

When she looks back, DT is _still _watching her. Something inside her winds tighter. Fuck.

“Ooh this one is _delicious. _Number four. Two magnets of opposite polarity are this.”

Adora is developing the distinct feeling that this is somehow a _setup_. But after a moment’s hesitation she slaps herself.

That hesitation evidently cost her, because DT calls on Catra.

Adora watches Catra out of the corner of her eye to see her respond. Catra stares fixedly at DT. She says, “What is. Uh, What is attracted. To each other.” A muscle in Catra’s jaw twitches.

Adora feels her cheeks go pink. She definitely should have stopped at three beers.

All the questions are going to be like this, aren’t they? Her competitive side is still telling her to _win the game, _even with these stupid questions. Her gut is telling her to just look at Catra, to bump Catra’s hip with her own in solidarity for this whole situation, and so it is more than a little difficult to disentangle these things, to just _focus_. Focus on the game.

There are cheers from Scorpia and Entrapta when DT says yes, and gives Catra a third point.

Adora tenses her arm muscles in preparation for the next question.

Double Trouble tugs at their pearl earring and grins slyly. “Ooh, this one is _spicy_. This formula is used to calculate airmass, assuming a flat atmosphere.”

Adora’s hand is up lightning fast.

“Adora?”

“What is—“ oh she _hates _Double Trouble, “Secant of z.” When she looks at Catra, Catra is wrinkling her nose in a familiarly endearing way. Adora is positive she’s fighting off the urge to laugh_. _Adora may have said the longform version, but she and Catra both learned the easy memory device for this formula by pronouncing it _“sexy”. _And she’d bet money that Double Trouble knows that.

DT looks mildly put-out. “Not _exactly _what I was looking for, but yes, I suppose that’s accurate…” They give Adora a point, bringing her up to two, and Catra with three.

Adora clenches her jaw in determination. She just needs to win this so they can stop being the _center of attention_. The eyes of everyone else in the room are hot on her back.

“Venus is named after the Roman god of this.”

Adora slaps in. Her forehead is starting to smart. Why are all the questions like this? She really hates Double Trouble right now. “What is. Love?” she grinds out, and refuses to look at anything except DT’s earring. Did someone crank the heat in here? How many questions do they have left?

“Correct!” DT practically _waltzes_ over to the whiteboard to give her another point, bringing her up to three, same as Catra.

“Last one, and look, another tie!” They look back and forth between Catra and Adora, “How _do _you two do it? You’re magnets for these, hmm, high tension moments.”

Murmuring comes from the circle of tables behind them. Adora picks out the words _solstice, _and _lab partners, _and _game_, and all those words are really not what she needs at this second.

Double Trouble twirls a strand of hair around their finger. “The final question is; at this point, nothing, and no_body_, can escape the gravitational attraction of a black hole.”

This one’s easy, and Adora’s hand is halfway to her forehead , body turning towards Catra in the same motion to see if she’ll win this one, before DT has even finished the question. Her skin stings. Catra looks right back, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth, her own hand on her forehead.

DT gestures to her. “Adora?”

“What is the event horizon?”

“Perfect!” DT clasps their hands together. “And Sparkle Squad takes the cake this week! Next Friday you all will have a chance to overtake them!”

Adora sags in relief and turns back around as Bow, Glimmer and Frosta cheer. She grins and heads over to them. A trickle of sweat makes its way between her shoulderblades and down her back.

Which is when she sees Mermista whispering something fervently to Sea Hawk. Whispering, and staring at _her_. And Lonnie is sort of squinting at her before turning to say something to Rogelio, and Perfuma and Scorpia are looking at Catra, and maybe it’s just the aftermath of the tiebreaker round. But Adora gets the distinct feeling that it’s not just that.

Bow gets up and slings his arm around her shoulder. “I _knew_ you’d be good at this!” He exclaims. Adora stumbles slightly. The almost 10,000 foot elevation here really makes the alcohol hit extra strong. But fortunately, she doesn’t need to think too hard anymore.

“Yeah we won!” She says, trying to sound happy about it and not edging into panic mode. It’s fine. Everyone is just…talking about how close that last round was, probably.

But Bow and Glimmer are elated, and Frosta is practically bouncing up and down (and Adora can see her hero-worship of Glimmer developing from a mile away) and Bow suggests that they go celebrate in his room with another round of drinks pilfered from the still-well-stocked beverage table which honestly sounds great, and so Adora lets her worry slide into the back of her mind. She can analyze later.

And it’s probably nothing, she reassures herself as she’s practically dragged out of the cafeteria. Still, she looks back for a split second, only to instantly lock onto a familiar pair of blue-green eyes. Catra is talking to Scorpia, but she glances over Scorpia’s shoulder, straight at Adora. Her expression is…complicated. Adora doesn’t quite know how to read it. She wrenches her gaze away and follows after Glimmer and Bow. “Hey, wait up!” she calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No kisses this chapter, but I do love a good station-slice-of-life :D We've been in catradora land for the past couple chaps, but the station is continuing to run as normal as well. It's not all doom and gloom with the feud, people still have fun :D Just like, less fun than if they were able to do whatever they wanted to socially.  
Also I drew [Adora teasing Catra in the in-station lab](https://herothehardway.tumblr.com/post/191002644513/adora-loves-to-tease-catra-just-a-little-aka) and also a doodle of [Catra trying to fit in the trashcan](https://herothehardway.tumblr.com/post/610891093283880960/a-trashcancan-catra-fit-in-a-trash-can-in-her) from the last chapter!


	17. Something foreknown to me

### Adora

Later seems to happen very quickly. On Saturday, which is a workday for most people at the station, Adora’s day starts out normally. Well, normal except for her unfortunate headache leftover from last night. She grabs breakfast, and then Sea Hawk takes her to the ICL. And their conversation is normal, right until the end.

They’ve been talking about trivia last night. Sea Hawk says, “I’m so glad you decided to join in, Adora! We’ve all been a little worried for you, you know.”

Adora glances sharply at him. “What do you mean?”

Sea Hawk studies her. “Well, Bow said you’ve been writing your thesis. Personally, I was hoping we hadn’t accidentally made you feel…unwelcome, for any reason.”

“No! No, you guys are all great! That’s not it at all!” Adora hurries to correct him.

“Yes, well, now I realize that we were completely off-base.”

“…you did?” Adora asks, confused. It’s too early to try to parse out Sea Hawk’s meaning.

They pull up to the ICL, and Adora grabs her bag.

Sea Hawk jerks his head at the lab. “Well, yes. It’s perfectly natural, you know, to be concerned about secrecy.”

A flash of pure ice goes down Adora’s spine. “Uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sea Hawk winks. “Don’t worry, Adora. Your secret is safe with me.”

“I don’t have a secret. What are you talking about?” Adora says frantically, and escapes the truck in a hurry.

“Playing coy, and I would expect nothing less. Best of luck, Adora.” Sea Hawk calls after her, rather more genuinely than Adora expected.

When she walks into the lab, Catra is there already, like she always is.

“Morning,” Adora yawns, “Did you make coffee yet?”

Catra spins her chair to face Adora. “It’s very easy to just look at the coffeepot, you know,” she says, but there’s no heat in it.

Adora wrinkles her nose. “Yeah but I forgot to.” She’d been thinking about Sea Hawk’s words. Had he somehow found out about their hookups? Adora isn’t exactly keeping a bucket load of secrets here.

Catra rolls her eyes. “Use your eyes every once in a while. But,” she calls after Adora as she resignedly heads back to the other room, “bring me some while you’re at it!”

Adora brews the coffee and pours it into two cups, then doctors each up. In hers, the usual one creamer, one sugar. In Catra’s, she dumps creamer in until it’s the color of sandalwood. She carries the mugs into the lab, ignoring the “No food or beverages” sign as usual. Since they broke the DOMs, and subsequently fixed them, they’ve silently agreed that coffee should continue to be allowed, for their own sanity, despite the risk. After all, Entrapta did fix what they broke. But Adora is always extremely careful to keep her mug out of accidental knocking-over range. Catra keeps hers sitting on the floor unless she’s drinking it.

Adora nudges Catra’s chair with her hip, and Catra smiles gratefully at her and takes her mug. “Thanks,” she says, and takes a long drink. Catra closes her eyes happily. “You make the best coffee, Adora.”

Adora snorts. “I just follow the instructions. You use the same beans when you do it.”

Catra wrinkles her nose and grins, “No, I think yours is better.”

“You just want to make me make the coffee every day instead of you!” Adora laughs, “Not gonna work. It’s your turn on Monday.”

Catra groans, “Worth a shot.”

Adora plops into her chair and tilts back before taking a sip. “Trivia was pretty fun last night.”

“Yeah except for that last round,” Catra says.

“Seriously, what the fuck Double Trouble?” Adora bursts out.

“I know, ugh,” Catra groans, “I swear, they’re trying to embarrass me as much as possible every time they see me.”

Adora raises her eyebrow. “Yeah? Like what else?”

Catra pinches her brow. “I dunno, like last time they gave me a ride they were way too interested in interrogating me about uh,” she gestures between herself and Adora, “this.”

Adora feels a twinge of anxiety. She bites her lip, “They’re not going to tell anyone, are they?”

Catra snorts. “Double Trouble is physically incapable of keeping their mouth shut. But they won’t tell Angella or Shadow Weaver, they know better than that.”

### Catra

Catra has been having a weird week.

First, there was Scorpia at breakfast on Saturday. Catra had joined her for her breakfast, Scorpia’s dinner. Mostly Scorpia had done some mild griping that she’d really like to have actual breakfast food for breakfast and dinner food for dinner, which honestly Catra can sympathize with.

But then, Scorpia had checked over her shoulder and done a quick scan of the cafeteria. She’d turned back to Catra conspiratorially. “Well, have a _great_ day today.” And then she had winked, which was a showy and elaborate affair when Scorpia did it.

Catra frowned in confusion. “Uh, thanks?” When Scorpia practically beamed at her, she added, “…Is there something I’m missing here?”

“Oh, _you_ know,” Scorpia said, and then looked…wistful. “You’re so lucky, Catra.”

“Uh, why?”

Scorpia looked at her incredulously. “Because you get to hang out with your girlfriend all day, obviously! Man I remember how great it was with Perfuma before I got banished to comms!”

“Wha—we’re not—Adora’s not my girlfriend!” Catra had hissed frantically, all but leaping over the table to clamp her hand over Scorpia’s mouth.

Scorpia winked again and mumbled around Catra’s hand, “Sure, wildcat.”

And nothing Catra said could convince her otherwise, and then it was time to go to the lab, and Catra had left feeling extremely dissatisfied with their whole interaction.

And on Monday, two days later, Sea Hawk is driving Adora and her back to the station for lunch. Adora is acting kind of weird, only giving Sea Hawk monosyllabic responses to his efforts at conversation. Catra takes pity on him and joins in finally, because she can’t stand it any longer.

Sea Hawk has been telling them about how hilariously miffed Mermista had been when he’d picked a musical for their weekly movie night. “She acted so annoyed. But you know what? She cried by the end. And I hear her humming the songs when I swing by her lab. So I think she actually enjoyed it!”

Catra asks, “You and Mermista are a thing, right?”

Sea Hawk grins happily. “We’re dating! I even got my dear Mermista to say those words a few weeks ago!”

Catra can’t say she really knows either of them all that well, but although they seem like a strange match, she has to admit that the two of them balance each other out well. She says gruffly, “Good for you.”

She doesn’t like the way Sea Hawk keeps glancing over at Adora and then her as he drives. “What?” she says in annoyance.

Sea Hawk smiles. “It’s just so good to see you two have worked things out.”

Adora’s head jerks up from where she’d been staring at the dashboard. “What—“ she reacts, and Catra can see her take a deep breath, visibly chill out, “Yeah, me too. Hating each other kinda sucked, huh?” She nudges Catra’s shoe with her boot.

Catra nudges her foot back. “Yeah. It did.”

But then, at lunch, when Catra goes to sit down next to Lonnie, Lonnie moves her arm over the seat. “Nuh-uh, Entrapta told me to tell you that she found your sweater downstairs.”

Catra crosses her arms. “So, where’s my sweater then?”

Lonnie looks apologetic, but only slightly. She smirks, which is not a reaction Catra was expecting. “She said she left it where she found it?”

“Ugh,” Catra gripes, setting her plate and cup down with a clatter. She points her finger at Lonnie, then Rogelio. “_Don’t_ touch my lunch.”

When she goes downstairs though, she can’t find her sweater. Or anything that Entrapta could possibly have thought belonged to her, actually.

She’s just about to head back up before her food is stone cold, when she hears footsteps coming from the direction of the other staircase. Adora comes out from behind a palette of canned goods, a confused expression on her face. She looks even more confused when she sees Catra.

“Hey Catra, have you seen my water bottle? Perfuma said she saw it down here somewhere on the way to lunch from the Gear Bay, but I can’t find it anywhere.”

Catra frowns. “No, haven’t seen it. Have you seen my sweater? You know, the maroon one?”

Adora’s eyebrows go up. “You have like, three maroon sweaters. Did she mean the one with the snowflake pattern? Or the black and maroon one? You were wearing that one the other day, right?”

Catra groans in frustration. “I have no idea! Lonnie told me that _Entrapta_ saw it down here. I feel like I’m playing fucking telephone.”

“Well we might as well look together, right?” Adora suggests.

They comb every inch of the room. And neither Adora’s water bottle, or Catra’s sweater, are anywhere to be found.

Catra’s stomach gives a loud grumble. “This is stupid. Clearly Entrapta was seeing things. Or if it was down here, someone already grabbed it. I’m going back up to lunch.”

Adora’s brow is furrowed. “I just don’t understand! Perfuma must have come along this path to the cafeteria, but there’s nothing here!”

“I dunno. Looks like it was a wild goose-chase for both of us.”

By the time she gets back, her soup has gone completely cold. She wolfs it and the bread roll down anyway, trying to ignore the looks Lonnie and Rogelio are giving her. She doesn’t know what their deal is.

Lonnie raises her eyebrow. “So…have _fun_ finding your sweater?”

Catra pauses with the spoon halfway to her mouth. “No I did not have _fun_ looking for a sweater that wasn’t fucking _down _there for twenty minutes.”

Lonnie’s face falls, and she scratches her nose, looking weirdly sheepish. “Oh. Uh…sorry you couldn’t find it.”

Catra huffs. “Yeah. And now I have to hurry through lunch.”

On Tuesday, when she takes her dishes to the dish pit after dinner Kyle, who is on dish duty today, jerks his head towards the non-residential entrance to the cafeteria. He leans forward conspiratorially, “Heard Adora tell Bow she was going to go check on Swiftwind.” His eyes dart around the room behind her. “Watch out for Shadow Weaver though, I saw her heading to the lab wing a few minutes ago.”

Catra’s eyebrows inch closer to her hairline. “Why are you telling me this, Kyle?”

Kyle is suddenly bashful. “Just trying to help you guys,” he mumbles.

Catra feels the sting of guilt that she usually gets after being mean to Kyle. It’s like kicking a puppy. She sighs in exasperation. “Thanks Kyle.”

Her feet take her the long way to Swiftwind’s enclosure, going down to the ground floor and weaving through the storage bays she’d been looking for her sweater in yesterday, instead of going directly from the cafeteria. She _will _go find Adora, because she’s tired of everyone being so fucking nosy. Adora won’t do that.

Just as she’s nearing Swiftwind’s kennel, Dr. Brightmoon appears out of nowhere, clipboard in hand, and Catra slows. But there’s no way to avoid her, and Brightmoon has _definitely_ seen Catra.

The research manager frowns at her as she approaches, “What are you doing here, Dr. Romero?”

“I, uh,” Catra fumbles for an answer, trying to think what else is in this wing, and her whole thing yesterday is in the forefront of her mind. “I forgot my, uh, sweater in the…craft room!”

Brightmoon’s eyebrows approach her hairline. “I didn’t know you were partial to the arts.”

Catra mumbles, “Why would you?” but at Brightmoon’s narrowed eyes, she says, “Yeah, sometimes, when the mood takes me. So, uh, see ya!”

And with that, Catra is forced to walk right past the door to Swiftwind’s kennel and continue down the hallway. She can feel Brightmoon’s eyes boring into her back, and she forces herself take measured steps, to swing her arms in what she hopes appears to be a casual gait.

As soon as she rounds a corner, she stops, and spins around, pulling out her phone. If she catches the light just right on the screen and tilts it _just_ so, she can dimly see back down the hallway she came from.

Brightmoon is nowhere to be seen. Catra cautiously pokes her head around the corner. Still empty. She _runs_ to the door to the kennel, wrenches it open, and slips inside, pulling it shut behind her.

She allows her head to fall back against the door with a _thud._ That could have been…bad. If she had been even slightly faster, Brightmoon would have seen her coming in here, and then there would have been no denying or deflecting.

“Catra?” Adora asks, sounding bemused. Catra opens her eyes and takes in the room. This seems to be the space directly below the basketball court/skating rink, and it’s similarly large and spacious. There are an assortment of bins stacked against one wall.

Adora is sitting on a dog bed in one corner, a ball held loosely in one hand. She’s relaxed, and obviously in somewhat of a post-lunch lethargy.

Swiftwind trots over to Catra and nuzzles her hand, and after a second Catra relents and scratches behind his ears. She pushes off the door to stand, and walks over to Adora, hands in her vest pockets. “Need a hand?” she asks and holds out her hand.

Adora tosses the ball to her and she catches it deftly. Catra turns and throws the ball the length of the room, and Swiftwind tears after it. The ball rebounds against the far wall, and he leaps into the air to catch it in his mouth before racing back to her and dropping the ball at her feet. He kinda looks like he’s smiling, which Catra didn’t know was a thing dogs could do.

She picks up the ball gingerly. It’s slimy with dog spit, but she’s not about to wipe it off on _herself_. She throws it again. Swiftwind goes after the ball just as enthusiastically.

“He’s a fetch maniac,” Adora offers.

Catra glances at her. Adora is gazing after Swiftwind, the fondness evident in her voice, her eyes, her faint smile. Catra is hit with an unexpected wave of jealousy. It’s stupid, to be jealous of a dog, of this dog for that matter. Swiftwind brings the ball back, and she throws it again for him.

Maybe jealousy isn’t the right word. She just wants…she wants Adora to look at _her_ like that. With a desperate need that she didn’t know was in her. She bites the inside of her lip. That’s a dangerous thought, one she should have a better handle on.

“Do you—“ Catra’s voice cracks, and she clears her throat. “You been having as weird last few days as I have?”

Adora’s gaze snaps to her. A line appears between her eyebrows. “What kind of weird?”

### Adora

It’s not just Sea Hawk when he takes her to work. It’s also Bow and Glimmer at lunch on Monday. After Adora reappears in the cafeteria from looking for her water bottle, she plops down at their usual table. “Ugh. Perfuma told me she saw my water bottle downstairs and I just spent like, twenty minutes looking for it. Now I’m going to have to eat fast so I’ll still have time to go see Swiftwind,” she grumbles.

Bow and Glimmer exchange what can only be described as a _look_.

Glimmer bites her lip. Bow yelps, “Ow!” and shoots her a dirty look.

Glimmer shrugs apologetically. “You have more of a feel for it than me!”

Bow rolls his eyes, then turns to Adora. He laces his fingers in front of his face. “So. Perfuma sent you downstairs. Did you…run into anyone down there?”

Adora says hurriedly, “Uh, _no_, nobody, I didn’t see anyone!”

The instant she says it, Bow narrows his eyes. “Huh, that’s funny. Funny when you _lie_ to us, I mean.”

Adora’s cheeks flush. “Ok fine,” she’d hisses, leaning forward to make sure nobody overhears, “Catra was down there too.”

Glimmer wiggles her eyebrows. “Ooh, _really_. Twenty minutes, huh?”

Adora shoots her a dirty look. “We teamed up to look for our lost stuff, okay? I know it was risky,” she scans the cafeteria to make absolutely sure Angella and Dr. Weaver haven’t appeared in the last few minutes, “but it would’ve been stupid to search by ourselves!”

And then Glimmer face-palms. “Oh my god Adora! It’s _fine! _As long as you didn’t get caught!”

Ringing in Adora’s ears. She crosses her arms tight to her chest. “What are you talking about?” She asks defensively.

Glimmer groans. “C’mon, you can cut it out. It’s obvious, you know that right? Trivia last night was _not_ subtle, hate to tell you.”

Adora clenches her jaw. “It’s not like that. Can we just eat lunch please?”

She tries to ignore the silent conversation Glimmer and Bow are having for the rest of lunch.

And then earlier today, Mermista came by her room right after dinner. Adora is just about to go give Swiftwind some much needed exercise and playtime when there’s a knock at the door.

“Yeah?”

The door opens a crack and Mermista sticks her head in. “Hey,” she says, and at Adora’s gesture comes fully into the room and closes the door behind her.

Mermista crosses her arms. “So a bunch of us are going to do a board game night tonight. Angella said she was going to be there.” And then she stares at Adora intensely for a full five seconds before adding, “Heard Shadow Weaver is a shut-in at night. Spends all her time going over the daily reports and compiling them for her main funder.”

Adora blinks at her. “Uh, cool? Are you, uh, inviting me?”

Mermista frowns at her. “No. Don’t come. Angella will be there.”

Adora fumbles for a response. “Oh…uh…”

Mermista lets out a huge sigh. “My _point_ is we’re all going to be hanging out _together. _There won’t be people wandering around in the evening. No…” her eyes flick over to Adora’s framed photo, “accidental interruptions. At least from our crew. But I mean, if you _don’t_ want to take advantage of it, it’s whatever. Anyway. I’m going to dinner. Bye.”

“Um. Thanks for, uh, letting me know?” Adora says as Mermista leaves.

Mermista pokes her head back in, and this time she’s grinning. “You guys are like, really fucking cute. By the way.” And then she’s gone, leaving Adora to stare after her.

So yes, Adora has had a weird last few days.

She bites her lip, looking at the picture Catra paints from this angle. The angle her jawbone makes with her neck. Her green eye, watching Swiftwind as he goes after the ball yet again. The cascade of her brown hair over her shoulders and down her back. Every inch of her is achingly familiar, except that now, Adora is allowed to indulge her desire to kiss that jawline, shove her fingers into her hair. Is allowed to look at her like she is right now.

Well, in here, that is. When nobody is watching.

“I think—I think everyone at the station thinks we’re…dating?” Her voice pitches uncontrollably upward as she speaks.

Catra turns her head quickly to look at her, brow furrowed. “I think you’re right,” she says.

Adora readjusts so she’s sitting cross-legged, back to the wall. “People keep saying things. And like, trying to set us up with opportunities to hang out?”

Catra quirks an eyebrow. “_Hang out_, huh?”

Adora rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Mermista came by earlier to tell me the whole crew was having a game night, and to tell me _not_ to come.”

Catra looks surprised. “Hey, Scorpia told me _my _crew is having a movie night! And then told _me_ not to come!”

Adora nods. “Yeah, it’s stuff like that! Anyway,” she continues, “I think the whole station thinks we’re like…secretly dating.”

Swifty brings the ball back to Catra and drops it at her feet, but she ignores him for a minute and turns fully towards Adora, arms crossed. “But we’re not.”

“That’s what I told Glimmer and Bow!” Adora exclaims, relieved. “Ok cool. Glad we’re on, uh, on the same page.”

Catra scratches behind her ear, looks down at Swifty. “Yeah. We’re not. I mean, I’m not saying—“

Adora says simultaneously, “I don’t want to stop—“

“—good—like, I wouldn’t want to—“

“It’s been really good—“

Catra nods frantically, “Yeah, yeah, ok glad it’s—“

“And it would really be a shame to—“

“Just because everyone thinks—“

“Okay. Yeah—let’s just—“

“Keep doing?”

Adora nods, “yeah, cool, because I don’t want to—“

“Stop.” Catra says.

Adora nods some more, relieved. “Great. Glad we clarified.”

Catra gives her a thumbs up. “Me too.” She picks up the ball again and throws it for Swifty. “So, uh, if everyone is occupied…”

The corner of Adora’s mouth lifts. “No point wasting an opportunity.”

Catra looks around the room. “Want to head back to the dorms? I, uh, have my own room, you know. Most people do. I think you and Glimmer are two of the only roommates, what’s with that?” She frowns in thought.

Adora thinks that sounds like a _great_ plan. “Yeah, okay, let’s do that!” She brushes off her pants, which are covered in white fur. Swiftwind trots over to her and she gives him a good all-over rub. “See you in the morning Swifty, okay?”

She glances at her watch. “I think we have a couple hours or something. Before people start coming back to the dorms. Although I guess if they’re actually egging us on..” she trails off.

Catra says, “I still think we should keep it on the dl. So everyone has plausible deniability, right? It’s one thing to speculate. It’s another to actually _know.”_

Adora agrees. She doesn’t want to put anyone else in a sticky spot. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Catra grins and sticks her hands back in her vest pockets. “What’re you feeling?”

Adora smiles, thinks for a second. “_But I’m a Cheerleader?”_

Catra wiggles her eyebrows. “Sounds like a _perfect _movie to…hang out to. C’mon, lets go.” She offers her hand to Adora, and when Adora takes it, hauls her upright. Adora can’t help that her eyes drop to Catra’s lips.

Catra’s laugh is rumbly and deep in her chest. “Wait five minutes, okay?”

They walk back to the dorm wing. Adora’s fingers ache to “accidentally” brush Catra’s as they walk beside each other. It would be so _easy_ to just hook her pinkie finger around Catra’s fingers, lace their fingers together. Given that they’re about to go have a likely-steamy makeout session, she doesn’t know why she wants it so badly. She’s about to have the ability to touch Catra all over, hands included. But somehow, all she really wants to do in this moment is hold hands with her.

She shoves her hands in her pockets to prevent herself from doing something ill-advised. It’s not _like_ that. Holding hands is not within their arrangement, she knows that. It slips much too far into something they’ve _agreed _isn’t what’s going on here.

That doesn’t stop her from wanting it with every fiber of her being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a shorter chapter this week, but this was just the best way to break things up. Their Vibes were visible from outer space, y'all. It's a good thing Angella and Shadow Weaver didn't come to trivia because they'd be discovered in an instant.
> 
> So now, every single person at the station is trying their darndest to give these two every chance they can engineer because it's obvious that they have capital-F Feelings for each other, and nobody wants another Perfuma and Scorpia situation because that sucked and continues to suck. And meanwhile, Catra and Adora are relentlessly determined to deny all of those stupid Feelings. This can't go on forever though...Next chapter will be a big one :)


	18. A buried and a burning flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright this is the chapter that's gonna earn that M rating for sexual content, heads up ;)

### Catra

“Catra.” Adora looks at her with pleading eyes. “It would be amazing.”

Catra’s heart clenches involuntarily. “I know. Let’s do it.”

And that’s how they end up staying up until midnight in the lab, the one _inside _the station, working a little, talking a lot, drinking coffee. Technically, they could see it at any time of day. But since Trivia Night, Catra’s been on edge. Even with everyone at the station going out of their way to help them, she still can’t shake the feeling that they could be found out at any moment, and then everything will be over.

Close to midnight, Adora glances at her watch and checks the webpage they’ve been refreshing for the past two days. She turns to Catra, eyes alight with excitement, and some other feeling that Catra can’t quite identify. (She thought she knew all Adora’s expressions).

“It’s happening,” Adora says in a hushed voice.

They race through the halls of the station, and Catra is reminded of years of running to practices with Adora, racing each other to the dining hall even when their muscles are jelly after, of picking the same classes and being late to them every day.

They arrive to the loading bay, breathless and grinning like fools. Adora scans the room and sees the snowmobile they scoped out earlier. She grabs the keys and practically _skips_ over to the vehicle, turning and beckoning to Catra.

“C’mon, let’s go!” She says as she straddles the vehicle. 

Catra stops for a second to just drink in the picture: Adora, practically vibrating with energy, putting the key into the ignition. From where Catra stands, the single light on the back wall outlines her in a faint glow. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a ponytail as usual, but by this time at night gently curling wisps of hair fall around her face, and the light makes it into a halo. She looks straight out of Catra’s dreams, which she’s always vehemently denied she even has for years.

Adora glances up when Catra doesn’t move. “What’re you waiting for?”

“I—uh—“ Catra hurries to the snowmobile and slides behind Adora, curling her arms around Adora’s waist. She mumbles into Adora’s hair, “I’m really glad you came here.” 

It’s not what she wants to say, but what she wants to say is too overwhelming, too big, to not-what-she-should-want. Too _I think I’m falling._ Too _it’s happening again Adora and last time I lost you and I don’t know what I’d do if I lose you again._ Too late though, to prevent it. 

“I’m really glad too,” Adora says in a low voice, and Catra feels the vibrations of her throat more than hears it. 

She sits up straight, and yanks Adora’s hood onto her head playfully. (Got to break out of these stupid, sappy, forbidden thoughts) “You don’t want to freeze your ears off, princess.” She says.

The nickname comes out without her thinking about it. She feels Adora go still. Then Adora inhales deeply, and relaxes against her. “Thanks.” She says, and turns the key in the ignition. The machine roars to life, and Adora hits the exterior door button.

Ever since Adora came into the lab one morning, and enthusiastically asked, “Want to go out to the ski hut and watch the Southern Lights all night?” they’ve been checking on the weather, waiting for an intersection of clear weather and predicted Aurora Australis. (Catra hadn’t known it was called that down here until Adora told her. She pretended she did.) They decided the middle of the night would be best, with the least people around.

Adora had said, “I just finished getting certified to drive the snowmobiles, so we can take one of those!” Catra didn’t ask, and Adora didn’t say, whether she was strictly speaking _allowed_ to take one out in the middle of the night by herself. But Catra doubts that Scorpia had imagined Adora would be using that clearance to do something this frivolous and idiotic.

Cold air rushes in as the door rolls up, and Catra flicks her hood up as well. She leans around Adora’s shoulder to peer into the blackness. Their headlights pierce the night to illuminate packed snow and small reflectors outlining the road. Adora puts the snowmobile in gear and they roll out of the station.

It’s fucking freezing out here. That’s Catra’s primary thought. She should be used to it by now, but somehow her body never adjusts to expecting the Antarctic chill that works its way between the seams of her coat and straight through the scarf on her face. Even with goggles on, it’s hard to keep her eyes open against the biting wind as they move across the snow. How is Adora managing to see enough to drive?

That’s not her problem though, so after a minute Catra just nestles her face against Adora’s shoulder and closes her eyes. She has an excuse, ok? And she’s tired from the _longest_ day of monotonous data checking they’ve had in a while.

Catra’s fingertips are starting to ache when the snowmobile slows to a halt. She blearily opens her eyes and blinks a couple times before her eyes focus on the small metal building. Geez, it’s been a while since she came out here. She certainly hasn’t this winter, but last winter she and Scorpia did the cross-country ski track a couple times before winter really hit, and she remembers being intensely grateful when they’d reached the halfway-point warming hut.

Catra slides off the snowmobile and swipes her badge at the door. When she turns the handle and pushes, though, the door doesn’t budge. She growls under her breath in frustration and pushes, to no avail.

“Need some help?” Adora says, coming up behind her.

“Go for it.” Catra says, stepping back.

Adora stands back, then shoves the door with one shoulder. It grinds open. She turns back, grinning cockily.

“Shut up. It’s all that lifting, don’t let it go to your head.” Catra grumbles, but she can’t control her cheeks flushing. She shoulders past Adora and into the hut.

She flicks the lights on.

Half of the warming hut is metal. But the half facing away from the station is floor-to-ceiling windows, with angled glass panels eventually meeting the metal of the rest of the hut. When you’re sitting in the old couch facing out, the glass is on three sides and above you and it feels like you’re really outside.

Adora walks across the hut to stand at the windows and stare outside at the black expanse. Catra flicks off the lights again, and she can tell the moment that Adora’s eyes adjust, because she gasps.

At the South Pole, they’re the only people for hundreds, thousands of miles. Down here where there are only a few thousand people on an entire continent, on a clear night like tonight the Milky Way is a brilliant river of stars spreading across the sky. There are more stars down here than Catra has ever seen in her _life_, and they still take her breath away.

Adora makes a black silhouette against the backdrop of the stars, and it must be some kind of huge cosmic joke that with the ability to see the entire universe, Catra still can’t tear her attention away from her.

She joins Adora at the window and looks out, out, out, arms folded across her chest, feeling strangely vulnerable. She startles when she feels Adora lean her head on her shoulder, but after a second, she relaxes into it. Adora is warm on her shoulder. They stand together quietly for a long time, until Catra’s muscles are protesting from holding still for so long.

Adora murmurs, sounding awed, “I’ve never seen so many stars Catra.”

She’s talking about the stars, but Catra’s brain catches on the way she says her name. She says it warmly, almost—but no. Adora doesn’t. Isn’t.

She nudges Adora, “So, about that hot chocolate we brought…”

Adora straightens up, hand flying to her mouth. “Fuck! Everything is still on the snowmobile!”

Everything _is_ still on the snowmobile, and if it is capable of freezing, it is frozen. The granola bars are like bricks, and the can of condensed milk is equally rock-solid. The chocolate chips are like tiny pieces of gravel.

Adora looks embarrassed when she brings the bag of provisions inside. “Sorry, I just got so excited!” They both shed their many _many_ layers of outerwear in a heap by the door.

While Adora busies herself with setting up the hot plate, and carving the milk out of the can with a spoon, and laying out the chocolate chips and sugar and water, Catra busies herself with watching Adora and pretending she’s not doing it.

She’s not exactly having a revelation. Adora has been the biggest secret she’s tried to keep since forever. More of a…reorientation. A reminder?

“You could do something to help,” Adora grouches without any heat.

“Nah, you’ve got it,” Catra says, “I’d only get in your way.”

Adora eventually gets the hot chocolate poured into two steaming mugs, and they settle into the old, beat-up couch facing the windows. Catra curls up against one armrest, leaving a careful foot of space between any one part of her and Adora. For safety. She curls her hands around her mug and looks out.

No Aurora yet.

Adora grabs her laptop and flips it open, trying to refresh the page, but they are definitely out of internet range. She sighs. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait.”

When she shuts the laptop, they’re once again left in the dark, the only illumination from the milky way, and the assorted electronics in the hut.

“Oh, woe is you, forced to spend time with me,” Catra jokes.

“I like spending time with you,” Adora says earnestly, “Otherwise I wouldn’t have volunteered to stay up all night waiting for an Aurora that might not even show up, you dork.”

And fuck, this is why this whole idea is dangerous. Adora can’t just go around _saying_ things like that. Catra is but a simple gay, having Big Feelings for her until-recently-estranged best friend who she’s been hooking up with, kinda. She can only take so much.

Catra sips her hot cocoa. She closes her eyes and loses herself in the rich, chocolaty flavor. Adora makes damn good hot cocoa. When she looks at her, Adora is watching her closely.

“Is it good?” Adora asks anxiously.

“Mmm,” Catra hums, “It’s really good.”

Adora relaxes and takes a sip of her own hot cocoa. “Oh good.”

Catra grins. “Good.”

Adora narrows her eyes. “Good!”

“Gooood,” Catra says, drawing it out.

Adora giggles. “Ok good. Uh. What do you want to do while we wait?”

It’s too dark to see Adora’s facial expressions that well, but Catra _thinks_ she cocks her eyebrow. “Well…we could always…” she trails off.

Catra takes another drink of her hot chocolate, now that it’s cooler. She clears her throat, and her pulse is pounding in her ears, but she doesn’t say anything. Waits for Adora to make a move.

The seconds tick by. Adora says, “I—“. She doesn’t move, doesn’t take another sip of her hot chocolate. She’s almost a statue. Really, does Catra have to do everything around here?

Catra puts her hot chocolate onto the floor, and fluidly gets onto her hands and knees. “I know you’re thinking of _something_, Adora,” she purrs, slowly crawling towards Adora. She gets to the other end of the couch, and puts her hands on the couch on either side of Adora’s hips. Their faces are so close that she can feel Adora’s breath on her lips, barely an inch apart.

“What is it?” Catra whispers.

Adora makes a little growl in the back of her throat, and surges forward to meet Catra. When her mouth meets Catra’s, hot and wet and _hungry, _Catra responds in kind.

Catra _loves_ getting Adora all riled up. She’s always loved to, and now that Adora’s outlet to shut Catra up is apparently to kiss her, Catra really has no incentive to stop. It seems like half the time, when they kiss they’re both trying to win.

Catra grabs Adora’s hot chocolate out of her hands and sets it safely on the floor, and then she’s back. She slides her fingers into Adora’s hair, tugs it out of that damn ponytail. She tries to undo Adora’s little hair pouf, but her fingers aren’t smart enough to disentangle the bobby pins and she doesn’t really have the focus to do it, not with the way Adora is working her mouth right now, not with Adora’s hands running up and down the sides of Catra’s thighs.

Catra pulls herself unwillingly away from Adora’s needy mouth with a gasp. She’s out of breath, which would be a little embarrassing except that Adora’s breath is hot and damp and rapid on her already sweaty face. Adora has sunk lower into the couch, and Catra is straddling her hips, holding herself up on her elbows over her.

Catra sits back on her heels for a second and she can’t help but get caught up in studying Adora. Adora, who in the dim light is looking up at her with a wry smile. She tilts her head cockily. “See something you like?”

In response, Catra delicately places her palm on Adora’s stomach. Muscles twitch under her hand, and she glides up Adora’s side. And all Catra really wants is to just. _Touch_ Adora, and not worry about who might walk in, for once. “Can I—“

Adora gasps, eyes wide.

Catra pauses. “Or not, sorry, um—“

“No, _look!” _Adora breathes, and Catra looks up.

Above them is a shimmering river of light reaching from one horizon to the other, flickering streams of emerald green wavering like lines of fire, shot through with deep magenta streaks.

And past the Aurora is that shimmering sea of stars, the Milky Way pouring across the sky like glitter. The window into the universe, and it’s right here, just for them. Catra forgets to breath.

Adora scrambles to sit up, and Catra somewhat reluctantly gets off her. Adora just tilts her head back and _looks_, drinks in the spectacle above them.

“Adora,” Catra whispers, touching Adora’s shoulder, because it feels like she should whisper, “It’s all around us. Look.”

Catra gestures out the window, the one that before, only showed grey snow below black sky and a sea of stars. But now, brilliant streams of green fire weave together, run as far as she can see, to the horizon.

Adora slowly gets up off the couch and walks to the window as if in a trance. She gazes, mesmerized, out, out, _out_, and lifts her hands to press them to the window. Her breath fogs up the glass.

Catra knows the feeling. Her whole body aches to phase directly through the glass, out into _that_. If there was some way to fly through the Aurora, become a single entity with it, she’d do it. Run along that river spilling across the sky. She pads across to stand next to Adora, and delicately, so delicately, sets her palm between Adora’s shoulder blades.

Catra hears Adora inhale, sees her glance at her, before letting one hand fall away from the glass. She turns into Catra’s touch and slides one hand to the back of Catra’s neck. Catra suppresses a shiver. Adora looks at her, eyes hooded. Her gaze rests on Catra’s collarbone, and she brings her other hand to tuck a lock of Catra’s hair behind her ear.

Catra’s lips part. She leans forward, but Adora doesn’t kiss her. Instead, she smoothes her hands over Catra’s shoulders and down her arms. Adora still hasn’t met her eyes, and when her hands reach the ends of Catra’s arms, she laces their fingers together and Catra’s heart rate spikes.

Catra tilts her head forward until their foreheads touch. She closes her eyes, feels Adora’s breath against her lips. And somehow this feels more special, more significant, than anything they’ve done so far. Neither of them move, just stand together breathing each others’ air. At some point Catra starts rubbing her thumb over the back of Adora’s hand.

Adora’s fingers slip out of Catra’s, and Catra opens her eyes. Adora pulls back, cups Catra’s face in her hands. Her eyes are full of…something, and behind her, the flickering of the Aurora is resplendent. An endless tapestry of color, and Adora is right here with her. Looking like some kind of goddess of light, of the night, of the stars. Catra has to tilt her head up to meet Adora’s eyes, and all she wants is—

Adora brushes her lips softly against Catra’s. Then, a second time, angling into a deeper kiss. It’s not the heat from before, this time. It’s a different kind of intensity. Catra wants to keep drinking in the sight of Adora, imprint it permanently on her memory, but her eyelids slide shut without her permission and she presses into Adora’s mouth.

Her hands slide up Adora’s back, pull her towards her. Adora’s hands are at her waist now, and it seems like she’s just as eager to be as close as possible as Catra feels. Catra walks backward to the couch, never breaking away from Adora. Her calves hit it, and she sinks down into the couch.

Adora climbs into her lap, sitting on Catra’s knees, and she leans forward to kiss Catra again. Which leaves Catra at the perfect level to slide her hands up the sides of Adora’s thighs to her ass.

Catra feels Adora smile against her mouth. She murmurs, “Feel something you like?”

Catra squeezes. “Mmm think so,” she says back.

Adora threads her fingers into Catra’s hair and Catra lets her head fall back. “Like that?” Adora whispers, before kissing a line to Catra’s ear. Catra tries, and fails, to prevent the shiver that runs through her when Adora kisses the place behind her jaw where her head and neck meet.

Adora nuzzles into her hair. “God you smell so good,” she says, and Catra can’t help laughing a little.

“You into it?”

“_Yes,”_ Adora breathes.

Catra brings her hands up to the top of Adora’s high-waisted pants. Adora’s base layer is tucked into her pants, like usual. Catra fiddles with the edge of her pants, trying to formulate a way to ask while also being incredibly distracted by how Adora is tugging on her earlobe with her _teeth_.

Adora pulls away and grins. “Are you trying to undress me Romero?”

Catra freezes, studies Adora’s expression. Adora is the biggest ball of contradiction possibly in existence. She’s a head-spinning combination of almost reckless confidence that makes Catra’s mouth go dry, and hesitation. They’ve kept things in the realm of clothes-on, previously. Which Catra has been fine with. There are a lot of things you can do with all your clothes on, after all. And she hasn’t pushed it, even though she kind wanted to remind Adora that she’s definitely seen her naked before, because she understands that the context is _different_. There’s a world of difference between casual locker room nudity and _intent._ Every time she’s made any kind of move, Adora…hasn’t said no, exactly. But she gets all tense, and Catra redirects things, and then Adora relaxes and everything goes swimmingly and so the last few times they’ve met up Catra has avoided anything like that.

But right now, Adora’s energy couldn’t be more different. She wants things and she’s going to get them. And apparently, that includes a lot more skin.

Catra bites her lip. She rubs her thumb over Adora’s hipbone, says, with what she hopes is the right amount of _yes, please, _and _only if you want, Adora, I would never do anything you didn’t want to_, “Well, if you’re so inclined…”

Adora _is_ so inclined, because she rises up onto her knees and tugs her shirt out from her pants. She glances down at Catra. Her lips part slightly. And _then_ in one motion pulls it over her head. “This what you were thinking?” She asks. Catra swallows, hard. “See something you like?”

And, wow. This view is quickly rocketing to the top of Catra’s “most beautiful phenomena”, blasting past the Aurora. Adora is kneeling above her in a sports bra, biting her lip and smiling at the same time. She’s haloed by the Aurora arching across the sky, making it bright enough to see with the lights off. Catra swallows hard. Her voice is gravelly. “Yeah.”

And sure, Catra has seen Adora in pretty much every state of undress. Locker rooms aren’t exactly private, and neither are tiny one-bedroom apartments. But she’d always studiously avoided _looking,_ really looking. Now she’s allowed to.

Now Adora is catching her mouth with hers, and finally (finally) Catra can smooth her hands across Adora’s warm, bare skin, up her back, cup her breast with one hand, and Adora presses into it. Puts her own hand on top of Catra’s, holding it there.

Catra kind of gets caught up in that image, but then Adora is rucking the hem of Catra’s shirt up. “Fair’s fair, c’mon,” Adora says.

Catra’s heart is pounding, which is ridiculous. _She’s _the one with experience, not Adora. So why does she feel so shy all of a sudden? Maybe it’s because Adora is being so forward right now. Maybe because this actually feels _important _for some reason. But Catra fights down her nerves, because she really _would_ like to take her shirt off, in fact, and so she does.

Adora just drinks her in.

Catra looks away, suddenly shy about her bralette. “Don’t exactly need a lot of support here, you know.”

Adora moves her hands to Catra’s ribcage, just below her bra line. Catra can’t help inhaling at the feeling of Adora’s fingers tracing her skin along the lace. “Amazing,” Adora whispers, almost to herself. Catra blushes. “Can I—“

Catra nods vigorously. She wants as much, as far, as Adora wants to go. Her breath catches when Adora slides her fingers up from under her arm to her shoulder, tucks her fingers under the bra strap. Tugs it gently down Catra’s shoulder, then pauses. Adora looks back up at Catra.

Catra returns the look dreamily. Adora’s grey-blue eyes make her think of the sky just before dawn. Or the ocean waves crashing on the coast, stirring up sand and shells and _life_ before running out to sea. Catra wishes they would take her with them. She’d like it if Adora would just keep looking at her forever, possibly.

Adora, tragically, breaks their gaze, looks back down, cups Catra’s breast in her hand. She brushes her thumb over Catra’s nipple. Catra inhales sharply. Adora does it again, and the heat that has been building low in Catra’s belly spikes.

She drags Adora down and slots their lips together. Catra works her mouth, while her fingers are fiddling with the band of Adora’s sports bra, feeling the definition of her stomach. She’s migrated down the couch so much that only her upper back and head are against the back, except that she has to crane her neck up to keep kissing Adora. Adora is practically on top of her.

Adora readjusts, and then grinds down against Catra, and a kind of yawning hunger opens in Catra’s chest. “God, Adora,” she groans, “You’re killing me.”

Adora pulls back abruptly, and Catra cranes upward and tries to follow her for a second. When that proves useless she thumps her head back into the couch and reluctantly opens her eyes. Adora studies her, biting her lip. This is, objectively, a good look for Adora. Lips swollen from kissing, hair loose and messy, falling onto her shoulders. Her cheeks are flushed, her pupils are blown. But her shoulders are tense now.

Adora takes a deep breath and stares at her own hand as it rubs back and forth on Catra’s stomach. “Um. Do you…” she stops, scratches the back of her neck awkwardly, and it’s just such an _Adora _move. So perfectly Adora. “I—Do you want to, uh…”

Catra decides to rescue her. “Fuck? Fuck yes. If you want to. If you were going to say—I kind of filled in the blank there, uh, if you don’t want to that’s, uh, okay too, of course. What were you going to say?” She rushes, and then groans and drags her hand down her face. Not really the suave Catra she likes to think she is. But Adora has the tendency to make all Catra’s preconceptions fly out the window.

The tension in Adora’s shoulders loosens significantly though. “No that’s what I was going to—Okay. Cool. I wanted to, um. Check in first.” At Catra’s raised eyebrows, she hurriedly continues, “Oh, yes! Yes I want to. Definitely want to. Yeah.”

Catra’s not totally sure what Adora’s sexual history is but she can make a wild guess and say that it’s limited. And she wants to make this _good_ for Adora. If she can summon the mental focus she is apparently lacking at the moment. She takes a deep breath. “Okay. Um. Can you, uh, get off for a second?”

Adora takes in their current position. “Oh! Yeah, sorry!” She says, and moves so Catra isn’t pinned down under her anymore. She sits back in the dip of the couch, her arms wrapped around her knees.

Catra stands up and takes her bra the rest of the way off, undoes her pants.

“What’re you—” Adora asks.

Catra looks up. “Is this good?”

“Yeah!” Adora nods aggressively, “I just, uh…I dunno, thought I’d do that.”

This girl will be the death of her. “Nah,” Catra says lowly and then she’s kneeling on the ground in front of Adora, “You can do that next time.” She gently tugs at Adora’s ankles, and Adora lets her legs be untucked, watches Catra with hooded eyes. Catra hooks her arms behind Adora’s knees and pulls her closer to the edge of the couch.

Adora’s breath hitches.

Catra is familiar enough with Adora to know that she’s probably overthinking things. “C’mere,” she says, and Adora leans forward. Catra catches her mouth, kisses her until she goes pliant against her.

She presses kisses down Adora’s neck, tracing a familiar path, and then less familiar as her teeth graze the hard nub of Adora’s nipple through her sports bra. Adora tilts her head back and gasps, and if Catra could just catch that sound in a bottle and keep it, she would. She slips her fingers under the elastic band, and Adora nods frantically and sits up a little so she can take it off, and now Catra’s mouth is on warm skin instead of fabric, and Adora is making these little _sounds_.

She moves lower, works her way down Adora’s stomach, kind of wishes she could spend more time blatantly ogling Adora’s abs. She reaches the waistband of Adora’s pants, takes the opportunity to glance up at her.

Adora’s gaze is molten lava. Her lips are parted, cheeks flushed. She whispers, “Do it.”

Catra grabs the fabric of the fly with her teeth, works it out from the button, never taking her eyes from Adora’s. She bites the zipper and drags it down. Adora’s eyes shut and she inhales sharply, hips canting up.

Catra slides her fingers under Adora’s waistband and pulls. “Up,” she mutters, and Adora willingly lifts her hips so Catra can slide her pants down to her thighs, past her knees. And then she kind of forgets to finish taking them off because here Adora is in just her underwear, and Catra is kneeling between her legs, (and what magnificent legs) and Adora is _looking_ at her again and the whole thing is just a lot and Catra stops thinking after that.

She runs her hands along the tops of Adora’s thighs, feels the solid muscle under her palms, and then she presses her lips to the inside of Adora’s knee. She works her way up the inside of her thigh, not so much kissing as just, dragging her mouth over Adora’s warm skin. As she reaches the place where the skin is softer, where Adora’s leg meets her groin, she pulls back and starts at Adora’s other knee.

Adora thumps her head against the back of the couch and groans, “Stop _teasing_.”

She gasps as Catra nips the inside of her thigh in response.

“Be patient, Adora.” Catra breathes into her skin, but the problem is it’s taking every ounce of resolve to keep at this slow and torturous pace.

When she finally—_finally_ makes her way back, she mouths at Adora’s panties. They’re damp against her mouth, and she feels her own arousal increase.

“Catra,” Adora whines, presses her hips up, tries to get Catra to put her mouth where she wants it.

“Tell me what you want,” Catra growls.

“Just—please—“ Adora breaks off.

“Do you want _this_?” Catra says, and hooks her fingers on Adora’s underwear.

“Yes,” Adora gasps.

“This?” Catra says, and drags them down.

“_Yes,”_

_“_This?” And Catra pushes her face between Adora’s thighs and _licks._

_“Yes!” _Adora moans.

Catra is a considerate lover. She works Adora up, almost to the edge, revels in the way that Adora shoves her hands into Catra’s hair, tries to press her closer. She drinks in Adora’s little gasps and moans, her _right there_’s and _more_’s. The way Adora says, “God, Catra, oh my god.” The way her fingers tighten in her hair and Catra knows she’s close.

The way she says Catra’s name as she comes. Like it’s a promise. Like the shape of it in her mouth is decadant, rich, like she only has so many _Catra_’s and then she runs out and this one has to count. Like it’s a holy thing.

Catra might be having a revelation of some kind right now and she can’t muster the mental focus she needs to actually think about it.

Catra works Adora through it, pulls away when she becomes too sensitive. She sits back on her heels and presses her forehead to Adora’s thigh and closes her eyes for a second, breathing hard.

Her hand snakes down, slips inside her underwear to that hot slick _wanting_ part of her. She inhales sharply, her need, which had been secondary, suddenly rearing its head.

But then Adora is tugging at her. Catra breaks off. “Hang on,” she says, panting.

“No,” Adora murmurs, “I want to,” and Catra allows herself to be drawn up onto the couch. Adora’s pupils are huge, and she says it as if in a trance. She repositions herself so her back is against an armrest, pulls Catra into her lap, between her thighs, Catra’s back to her front.

“I think...” Adora says, and kisses the nape of Catra’s neck, sends a shiver down her spine, “this angle…yeah.” And then one hand is on her breast and the other is sliding between her thighs, where Catra’s fingers had been moments ago.

She says low into Catra’s ear, “Tell me what you like, Catra.”

Catra’s head drops back onto her shoulder and she says breathlessly, “_That_, ah, yeah—“ her breath hitches. “Adora—“ And she’s turning her head, seeking out her mouth, and when Adora slots their lips together Catra is open mouthed, gasping into Adora, and Adora drinks it in, her tongue sliding against Catra’s, and Catra is reaching around with one hand to put it around Adora’s neck and pull her closer.

Catra makes a little whining noise when Adora breaks the kiss, and Adora says, “I’m—not going anywhere—“

Catra manages to crack open her eyes, and there is the silhouette of Adora’s face, and behind her is the Aurora, fading now but still brilliant, shimmering, emerald green, and Catra was already close, and then Adora is nuzzling behind her ear, licking just behind her jaw and her fingers are like magic, and Catra tries to keep her eyes open, she really does, but they slide closed anyway as pleasure sweeps through her like a tidal wave and her back arches, and she’s saying, “Adora,” only it’s not really a name so much as it is a prayer, the word of a sinner to a saint.

And now Adora is kissing her again, and Catra is shifting to the side so now she can lie next to Adora and kiss her_ better_, and Catra can’t stop running her hands all over Adora’s skin, the sweat-slickness down her spine, Adora is an assault to all her senses and if she could live inside this moment for an eternity she’d take it in a heartbeat.

She’d take Adora in a heartbeat. All of her. All her messiness and imperfection. Her anxiety and her teasing and her laughs and the way she bit her lip and smiled when she took off her shirt and her eyes and her work ethic and the way she never stops _trying_ and—and—and—

The world crystalizes in an instant.

She’s in love with Adora Sherman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So big chapter ;) This is my first time writing smut so I'm a lil nervous, lmk how it was haha
> 
> Some housekeeping: After a very informative conversation and feedback from @Johannas_Motivational_Insults, who knows a lot more about hockey than me, I decided that Catra should in fact have been a forward all along. Relevant flashback sections in chapters 4,6, and 8 and like 1 line in ch 13 have been minorly edited to reflect that change, and also there's some more accurate language describing play :D tysm Jo!
> 
> @suricat-passer [this cute fanart](https://suricata-passer.tumblr.com/post/612057183239208960/when-she-looks-back-dt-is-still-watching-her) of Trivia Night, go check that out!  
And I drew [Catra showing up in Swiftwind's kennel](https://herothehardway.tumblr.com/post/612134063761965056/catra-allows-her-head-to-fall-back-against-the) as well!


	19. Icarus to your certainty

### Adora

Adora’s mind is caught in a loop. And she’s trying to drive a snowmobile, so it’s a little distracting. She can’t seem to stop thinking about Catra, which maybe isn’t such a new thing, but certainly has never monopolized her brain with this intensity.

Catra is nestled against her back, warm and lethargic despite the subzero temperatures as Adora drives back to the station. Well, Adora assumes she’s warm. She can’t actually feel it, because there are about six layers of clothes between them right now. But despite their lack of actual physical contact, the shape of her behind Adora only makes her think of earlier. The way that Catra had felt against her. The look in her eyes right before she’d gone down on her. The feel of her tongue against Adora. The—

Adora shakes her head. It’s late—way too late. Much closer to morning than midnight, and she wasn’t feeling the hour back in the hut but she sure as hell is now. And they need to get back before anyone is awake because they’ve broken more than one rule tonight, and not just the one about the feud.

Which is unfortunate, as all Adora really wanted was to stay in the hut forever. Even as the Aurora died down, and the stars were their only light. They were still magnificent. Catra’s warm skin against hers, the way that Catra fit against her. It had felt so…_right._

They approach the station, an island of cheerful lights in the sea of darkness, and Adora is suddenly infinitely glad that it’s still here, that this oasis of warmth and light in the barren ice, no matter what the bizarre politics are, is full of people who have become her friends.

Adora fumbles to press the button that makes the vehicle bay door roll up, and she maneuvers the snowmobile into its spot and kills the engine. When she pries her hands off the grips, her mittens make a cracking noise as she flexes her hands.

Catra hops off the bike behind Adora, and instantly she misses the imagined warmth. And maybe she’s seeing things, but Catra seems…almost shy, all of a sudden, as she grabs one arm with her other mittened hand.

She stares at a spot near Adora’s collarbone, bites her lip. “I had a really nice night,” Catra says softly, “Like, really nice.” She finally meets Adora’s gaze, and Catra’s eyes are full of…something. She turns like she’s about to go.

“Wait!” Adora says urgently and dismounts, grabs Catra’s arm before she can walk away. She doesn’t want the night to end. She _doesn’t want the night to end._

But her mind is blank, no flirty comment on the tip of her tongue. She tugs Catra back to her, and Catra comes to her easily, stands between her legs like she belongs there.

“I—uh—“ She just doesn’t want her to go.

Catra reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Adora’s ear. “So you look presentable,” she mumbles.

Adora’s heart clenches violently. “Thanks,” she whispers. She doesn’t trust herself enough to be louder.

And she can’t resist darting forward to kiss Catra, quick as anything. Except that Catra’s lips are parted, and what she meant, (she _did) _to be quick turns quite a lot longer, and that’s good because Adora _really_ doesn’t want Catra to leave.

Finally, Catra pulls away reluctantly. “I better go,” she murmurs against Adora’s lips.

Adora clears her throat, smooths her hands down the lapels of Catra’s unzipped overcoat. She can’t quite bear to meet her eyes. “Yeah. I—uh, I should get the snowmobile cleaned up before I go to bed.”

Catra turns, and this time she really does walk away. Adora’s hand slides down Catra’s arm as she leaves, unwilling to let her fingertips lose contact with Catra’s coat sleeve, until finally, she’s too far away, and Adora’s arm falls limply to her side.

Adora watches Catra walk across the vehicle bay toward the double doors. Right before she gets to them, her pace slows. She glances over her shoulder, smiles a small soft smile.

It hits Adora like a semi truck. So sudden it takes her breath away.

And then Catra is gone.

Adora slides to the ground, her back against the snowmobile. She’s staring at the ground, eyes unfocused, not taking in a single thing. Her lips are still tingling from their kiss.

Her heart is pounding too hard, her breath is uneven.

She’s—Catra is—

She can barely think it. But it feels true, feels as right as anything she’s ever known about herself.

She closes her eyes, leans back until her head bumps against the cooling metal behind her. Whispers to herself, “_I’m in love with Catra.”_

The words curl into the air with her breath, insubstantial and untouchable. She can’t take them back, knows that they’re true.

Her mind is racing. How long has she been in love with Catra? Minutes? Hours? Years?

Adora mechanically begins the task of wiping down the snowmobile. She keeps turning it over, trying to figure it out. Was it tonight, out there under the stars? No. She knows that loving Catra isn’t a new thing, only her discovery of its existence.

She’s been busy working with Catra, laughing with Catra, crying, and kissing Catra, and meanwhile there’s been a tree growing through the cracks of her heart, and now that she’s seen it, there’s no forgetting or ignoring it.

And she’s afraid that—

Well. She’s afraid.

Adora abruptly realizes that the snowmobile was clean a long time ago. She drops her towel, hangs her head for a minute. Takes a deep breath.

And then she marches back to her room to wake up Glimmer.

She doesn’t bother trying to be quiet, just goes to Glimmer’s bed and shakes the lump under the bedspread. “Glimmer, wake up,” she says urgently.

When that only makes Glimmer groan and burrow further under the covers, Adora wrestles the blankets off her.

“Whatsit—wha—“ Glimmer yawns jaw-crackingly and pushes herself up to blearily squint at the clock. “It’s…five in the morning…”

“I know. Sorry. But this is important. Maybe I should get Bow? I’ll be right back.” Adora babbles.

Five minutes later she’s back with Bow in tow, grumbling and still half asleep.

“Sit,” she tells him, and he sort of flops onto the bed next to Glimmer.

“Okay.” Adora mutters to herself, while she waits for Glimmer and Bow to get situated, “It’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. Everything will_ not _be fine_, fuck.”_

_That_ gets her friends’ attention. Bow starts hesitantly, “Want to tell us what was so important that it couldn’t wait until, uh,” he glances at the clock, “Six, at least?”

Adora laces her fingers together and presses them behind her head. “Yeah. Sorry.” She tries to imagine waiting another hour. She can’t. “Sorry, but this is important.”

She takes a deep breath. “I think—“ her voice cracks. She doesn’t _think. _“I…I’m in love with Catra.”

Her voice is wobbly, and Adora hates that. Hates that she can’t manage to keep it together. She lets out a sob, blinks tears out of her eyes as she stares at the ceiling. “_Fuck,_ I—“

“Hey, Adora,” Glimmer says softly, and she and Bow scoot apart to make a space between them, “C’mere.”

Adora crawls onto Glimmer’s bed, between her two best friends. She presses her forehead to her knees, takes deep, shaky breaths, tries and fails to keep them from turning into sobs.

She’s just feeling too_ much_, too many things, and they’re all tangled up in her head and she doesn’t have a chance in hell of teasing them apart. She’s discovered she’s on the precipice of something, only her discovery came too late and now she’s falling with no way to stop.

Bow’s hand is on her back, comforting and firm. “You…seem upset.” He says tentatively.

“Understatement of the century,” Glimmer tells him over Adora, and Adora snorts with a laugh that bubbles up through her tears. It’s a messy affair.

“I’m—I’m in love with her,” Adora mumbles again, waits for it to fall differently this time. It doesn’t, still leaves a pit in her stomach that is equal and opposite to her elation.

After a minute, Glimmer asks, “Isn’t that a…good thing?”

“Yeah—no—it’s just—“ Adora says, tries to string her words together, utterly fails.

“Does this have to do with where you’ve been all night?” Glimmer finally asks, and there’s not a hint of judgement in her voice.

Adora squeezes her eyes shut, wraps her arms around her thighs as tight as she can, and nods jerkily. Then shakes her head and mumbles, “Kind of. Not really.”

Because Adora can’t remember the last time she was that blissfully happy. Possibly, never. Probably, when they’d won the NCAA Championships.

“So you know how Catra and I have been—“

“Ice wives?” Glimmer supplies.

Adora blushes violently. “Yeah, I guess so. We’ve been hooking up, and we had sex and it was amazing, and then recently—_really_ recently, I’ve discovered that actually, I’m in love with her and that’s _not what this is_ and it’s going to ruin everything and I’m going to be weird and awkward and I don’t know how to act around her and—“

“Okay,” Bow cuts her off, “Take a breath there.” Adora does. He continues. “Why will this ruin everything again?”

“Because we _talked_ about it and we agreed that this was just hooking up, that we _aren’t_ dating or girlfriends or anything!”

“Maybe…you should talk about it again?” Bow asks tentatively.

“_No!” _Adora says vehemently, “I—I can’t. I just can’t. Catra is—“ she squeezes her eyes closed, says in a small voice, “What if I tell her and she—she doesn’t want to be friends anymore? I…I don’t think I could take it. Again.”

“It was fine when it didn’t mean anything,” she says softly, “Because that meant there was less—less to lose. Or maybe I could just pretend there was.”

Quiet.

“Well, what are you going to do?” Glimmer says finally.

Adora thinks for a long time.

She doesn’t want to say it. It’s not really what she wants, obviously. But she can’t see a path forward otherwise that doesn’t involve an unacceptable amount of risk.

“I’ll. Maybe if I try to, uh, distance myself. I can get over it. And then we can just go back to being friends.”

Silence. She looks up at Bow, then Glimmer.

Bow is frowning at Glimmer. Glimmer’s eyes are narrowed. Adora clears her throat. “…guys?”

Bow breaks eye contact with Glimmer. “You can…try that. If you think it’ll work. But, uh,” he rubs the back of his neck, “…It might not. It might just hurt.”

Glimmer makes an exasperated noise. “Adora. Be honest with yourself. Will avoiding Catra for a couple days, a couple weeks, the rest of the winter, going to make you stop being in love with her?”

Adora glances back and forth between Bow and Glimmer. She frowns. “Wait…”

Bow sighs. “Speaking from experience.”

“Oh.” That’s all Adora can manage. She’s a little surprised, but actually, not really at all. “So you two are…?”

Has she really been so wrapped up in herself that she hasn’t noticed that Glimmer and Bow are a little more than just best friends? The answer is almost definitely yes.

Bow continues, “The point is, it might be harder than you think. And the outcome might not be what you want.”

“I have to try,” Adora says determinedly.

##  September, one year, four months after graduation

“And here’s your schedule!” The greeter says with a smile, and hands Adora her information packet.

Adora thumbs it open and scans the first paper she sees. There’s a happy hour tonight at eight for all the new students. She flips to the next page, which has the contact information of the department advisors, professors, and staff. The next paper is a map of campus.

She should probably go to the happy hour, right? She should meet her fellow grad students.

Her fellow grad students. Other people who love Astrophysics just as much as she does. People who share her interests, her passions. She wanted to go to grad school and surround herself with these people, she reminds herself. But the thought of going to the happy hour makes her stomach turn and her breath jittery. They’ll all be so happy and well-adjusted, and she’ll be…well, she won’t be.

They’ll all be nice and interesting people, Adora is sure. (But none of them will be Catra.) She’ll make friends with them, she’s sure. (But not like she was with Catra.) She _wants_ this, more than anything. She knows that. _She_ applied to grad schools in the middle of training for the Olympics, weathered the confusion of her teammates that she didn’t want to keep playing.

But hockey feels broken for Adora. It feels like it shattered and when she looked to pick up the pieces, she couldn’t find all of them, and now they won’t fit back together quite right ever again.

There’s a Catra-sized hole in her love for hockey, and she could do a good job of pretending it wasn’t there, for a while. But a silver medal is a bitter thing. It leaves most people thinking _what if_, and Adora…well, she has more _what if’s _than most people. And she’d been happy when she’d gotten that acceptance letter.

So here she is, at grad school. She still feels so dulled to it all.

Right now, all Adora really wants to do is sleep. She wanders back to her brand-new apartment, the boxes still packed and stacked along walls. She tries to figure out which box has kitchen things in it, but gives up after a few minutes and grabs the bag of chips she’d bought earlier today instead and collapses into her bed. At the moment, it’s a mattress on the floor. She hasn’t gotten around to buying furniture yet, in this new apartment in this new city.

Adora drags her laptop out of her backpack and slouches against the wall. She pulls up her favorite sitcom. She’ll get ready for the happy hour in a little bit.

She watches two episodes, then three. Then another one. Her eyelids slide shut sometime during the fifth episode.

She wakes up at five in the morning, still wearing her clothes from the day before, with a horrendously sore neck and her laptop dead beside her. She rubs her eyes. She missed the happy hour. There’s a tiny nugget of regret somewhere, but mostly, she’s relieved.

She has a couple more days to get herself together, polish the jagged edges down, before she has to meet everyone.

She can do it.

A month later, Adora is crying on her kitchen floor. It isn’t the first time, or the second, or the fifth even.

She’s not sure why, exactly, she’s crying, only that she can’t stop, and that her whole body is shaking and that it feels like the world is ending. Her professor called on her in seminar today and when he’d looked at her expectantly, Adora’s mind had gone completely, utterly blank. She can’t remember what she said, only that he’d looked vaguely disappointed and moved onto the next person.

She can’t really remember what they discussed for the rest of class either, because she’d just been sitting in her chair, pen frozen over her notebook, trying to keep her hand from shaking too much, hoping she can keep it together until the end of class.

He’s going to think she’s an idiot. He probably _already_ thinks she’s an idiot. All her classmates do, _must_ see how much of a disaster she is. It was a simple question, probably. One that Adora certainly knows the answer to. But every day she steps inside the classroom and knows that today is the day she’ll _prove_ that she belongs here. And every day she falls short.

It’s a good thing she lives alone. Nobody else has to see her like this, huddled on the cold linoleum, dissolving into a pile of fine sand, ready to blow away at the slightest breeze.

Her phone buzzes, and when her clumsy fingers pull it out of her pocket, it’s the reminder she’s set up every day at six. _Eat dinner._

Adora slowly gets to her feet. Her legs feel weak and her breath is still uneven. But she’s up. She goes over to the cupboard and pulls out a box of mac ‘n cheese. There are silverware and kitchen implements in her drawers and plates and bowls in the cupboard now, although there are still untouched boxes sitting around her apartment. There are a _lot_ of boxes of macaroni in her cupboard.

She pulls out a pot, fills it with water, and turns the stove burner on. And then she leans heavily against her fridge and closes her eyes, just for a second.

She’s pulled out of her reverie by the sizzling of water hitting the hot stovetop. It’s boiling and spitting water everywhere. Adora opens the box of macaroni and pours the pasta in, and sets a timer so she won’t forget.

Ten minutes later, she eats the macaroni straight from the pan, standing in the kitchen. Then she grabs a protein bar and heads to the gym. Exercising always helps her get back on track.

She goes to the gym a lot. But she isn’t training for anything now, and the place that has always felt like home, like purpose and accomplishment and focus, isn’t the same anymore.

She goes anyway, because lifting heavy things and putting them down and sweating makes her feel just a little more grounded.

A month later, Adora is sitting on the stairwell down the hall from her first year Stellar Hydrodynamics class, with her head between her knees. She said she needed to use the bathroom. It’s been too long to have actually gone to the bathroom.

This isn’t the first time she said she had to go to the bathroom and instead came to sit in this stairwell, either.

She can’t go back in now. Everyone will see her red-rimmed eyes, her runny nose, will sense her shakiness. Everyone will know that Adora Sherman is falling to pieces right in front of their eyes.

She will have failed, again.

And Adora can’t help but be angry with herself. She’s better than this. She was _good_ at school in undergrad. She _knows_ the material. She stays up late studying almost every night. Why can’t she get it together enough to show them that she deserves to be here?

Something has to change. Something has to, or Adora won’t last the semester.

She gets up. And instead of going back upstairs, where her class is still discussing stellar processes, she goes down, and out of the building.

Her feet carry her all the way across campus, to a cheerful looking house-turned-university-building.

She stops across the street from the building. Looks at it for a long time, so long that campus is filled with a flood of students getting out from the class-block that she should have been in, and then disappear again, off to their next class or heading home for the day.

She’s momentarily distracted by the realization that her backpack is still in her Hydrodynamics classroom.

But no. She’s here now, and she’ll go get it after.

Adora walks up the stairs of the building. Inside, there’s a receptionist’s desk in what probably used to be the living room. A friendly looking woman looks up at her.

“What can I do for you this afternoon?” The receptionist asks.

“I—uh—“ Adora takes a deep breath. “This is the intake hours, right?”

The receptionist nods. “It is. Let me get you a form, and I’ll let one of our counselors know you’re here.”

## Now

The thing is, it took Adora _years_ to be okay after everything that happened with Catra, and their paper, and everything. Years, and therapy every single week, and Swiftwind, and coming back to that classroom hours later to find her backpack with everything packed in it, and a note from her professor that read, _Why don’t you come to my office hours for a cup of coffee on Wednesday? I want to make class an environment you feel comfortable in. How can I help?_

It took her years. And Adora is twenty-seven and she’s close to the end of her PhD and she’s doing so much better. She has a _life_ now. And maybe it’s not the most exciting life. Maybe she’s friends with her cohort, but not close friends with them. Maybe she goes to beer league on the weekend and goes out for drinks after and never talks about herself with her teammates, only listens to their stories about their families, their jobs, their injuries.

It’s not their fault that Adora’s life is a sob story. Orphan girl has unfortunate childhood, goes to college and makes the best friend she’s ever had, wins the college championships, still manages to fuck up the only relationship that has ever made her feel at home, and nothing she does will ever bring it back. It’s a mixed league, meaning she’s one of the only women, meaning most of the guys she plays with have no idea she played at Sochi, only that she’s good.

That’s fine. She’d rather not have to talk about why she stopped.

But there’s stability to everything that she’s worked so hard to create. There’s routine, and the progress of slowly but surely working her way towards her degree. Maybe she’s not happy, exactly, but she’s content.

And maybe she decided to volunteer to come down to Amundsen-Scott because she was sick to death of it all, sick of being boring, _small_ Adora, who keeps to herself and walks her dog twice a day and keeps her nose to the grindstone.

Maybe Catra makes her feel wildly alive in a way she didn’t realize until she was gone. Has from the second she introduced herself against the doorframe on a hot August afternoon. Maybe Adora doesn’t know how she can possibly recover a second time from losing her.

Glimmer and Bow think of this as reconnecting. Adora has been unconsciously been thinking of it as reviving, resuscitating. She’s okay without Catra. But from the second she saw her on her first day at the station, Adora has been more awake than any point in the last five years.

It’s exhilarating. And she can’t lose it. She doesn’t want to go back to sleep. She can’t take that risk, the risk that if she tells Catra, that Catra will want nothing to do with her.

So yes. Adora is afraid.

### Catra

The full magnitude of it doesn’t hit Catra until later. There’s a blissful window where she’s riding high, full of sweet discovery. Adora is kind of dopey, kind of sweet, and Catra can’t resist her in the vehicle bay.

Until she gets back to her room, and it hits her all at once.

She’s in love with Adora. She’s _in love_ with _Adora. _She tosses and turns for a couple hours, unable to go to sleep. And the second the clock turns to 5:50 AM, she’s popping up again, exhaustion tugging at every fiber of her, but full of a fizzy kind of energy that won’t let her rest. It’s her second, maybe third wind.

She trudges to the cafeteria and swings by the kitchen. “Hey, Razz,” she greets the cook.

“Oh Catra, it’s been such a long time!” Razz exclaims, beaming at her and dusting her hands on her apron.

“Yeah, guess I’ve been…busy…” Catra says, a little embarrassed. She’s been a little preoccupied lately. “Could I grab a couple muffins? I want to catch Scorpia before she’s off work.”

“Of course, dearie! Help yourself!” Razz says, and gestures to the platters of baked goods covered in plastic wrap that have been prepped for breakfast.

Catra grabs a couple blueberry muffins, wraps them in a napkin, and heads to the Comms Center.

When she gets there, Scorpia is just closing the door behind her.

“Nope, sorry,” Catra says, grabs her elbow, and drags her back into the Comms Center.

“Uh, Catra, I was just getting off work—“ Scorpia begins.

“This is important. Sit.” Catra says, and points at a chair.

Scorpia sits and crosses her arms. Catra hands her a muffin. Scorpia glances down at it. “Wh—what’s this—ooh, blueberry? They’re my—“

“They’re your favorite, yeah, I know.” Catra says.

Scorpia tears into the muffin enthusiastically. “God I—oh wow these are so good—Razz makes the best blueberry muffins!”

Catra takes a deep breath, and laces her fingers together in front of her. “Okay. Okay.” She says to herself. She starts pacing in front of Scorpia.

Finally, she grinds to a halt. “Ok I’m going to tell you something and you have to promise not to freak out about it, okay?”

Scorpia pauses in her demolishing of the muffin, a more serious expression on her face. “You have my word, wildcat.”

“Okay. Good.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m in love with Adora,” she rushes. And fuck, saying it out loud only makes it feel more real.

Scorpia squints at her a little. “…okay? Is that all or what, because I _do_ want to go to bed pretty soon. Perfuma and I are meeting up after she’s done with work and I do _not_ want to be sleep deprived.”

Catra growls in frustration. “No, you don’t understand! I’m in _love _with _Adora! _You know, blonde, dumb hair poof, Astrophysicist?”

Scorpia raises her eyebrow. “I mean, obviously, you’re dating, and I mean, what with your history, I kind of assumed…”

Catra cuts her off. “No, we’re _not_ dating. That’s the whole fucking problem.”

She sees the realization hit Scorpia. “Oh. Shit.”

“So now I don’t know what to fucking do!” Catra groans.

“Are you absolutely sure she doesn’t…” Scorpia hesitates, “you know, feel the same way?”

Catra laughs, high pitched and out of control. She _feels_ out of control. “Ha. No. Not a chance. Adora’s…she…”

She’s not in the business of shredding her own heart, but she’s the one who went and fell in love with Adora, so maybe she gets what she deserves with this one.

“We’ve talked about it,” she finally says unwillingly. “Adora _likes_ our whole…friends with benefits thing. When everyone started, uh, trying to help us out…” She thinks back to that conversation. How quickly Adora had clarified that they _weren’t_ dating. How relieved she’d seemed when Catra had agreed. “Just. Safe to say that she doesn’t feel the same,” she says finally, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

Scorpia says with almost more kindness than Catra can bear, “Gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Catra laughs hollowly. “Yeah. I—“ her voice breaks. “_Shit,_ Scorpia, I don’t know if I can do it.”

Scorpia nods sagely. “Can’t keep doing your friends with benefits thing when you caught feelings.”

“…Yeah. Or more like, unearthed. Unburied. _Fuck.” _Catra swears vehemently. She glances at Scorpia. Scorpia’s expression is…complicated. Catra rubs her face. “Shit, I’m sorry. I can talk to someone else if this is too weird for you.

Scorpia bites her lip for a second. “No, it’s good. We’re good. I’m, uh…Perfuma is really amazing. Work stuff sucks obviously, but I’m—last winter was last winter.”

Catra once again is confronted with the fact that she does not deserve Scorpia’s friendship. She…wasn’t really in the best place, last winter. At least when it came to romantic entanglements. She hasn’t been for a long time. Pretty much since graduating, now that she thinks about it. How many miserable breakups could she have avoided if she’d paid attention to the fact that she was still hung up on Adora?

“You’re a good friend,” she says quietly.

“Thanks,” Scorpia says.

They’re quiet for a minute.

Finally, Catra continues. “So… what am I supposed to do next time Adora wants to hook up?” Catra asks, “Say no? It’s just, I don’t _want_ to stop. I just don’t know if I can—I don’t know how I’ll do it. But something is better than nothing, right?”

Scorpia considers her. “Maybe. It depends.”

Catra groans. “Why did I have to go and make this so complicated?”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up for having feelings!”

Catra exhales. “How did I not see this coming? I know Adora better than anyone. I should know _myself_ better than this. I never should have let things go this far.”

But she had _wanted_ things to go this far, even if she hadn’t put the words to it. She wants as much of Adora as she’ll give, and Adora kept giving and giving and giving. She’s not sure she has the self-control not to take it.

Catra rakes her fingers through her temples for the umpteenth time, making a wild mess of her hair. It’s seen worse though. “Okay. I’ll just…I’ll just let Adora lead. I’ll go along with whatever she wants to do. And if it comes up again, the whole dating thing, I’ll clarify that I _do_. Want to. And if it doesn’t…” she sighs heavily, “Then I’ll just keep on doing whatever. It’ll be fine.”

Scorpia is looking at her like she doesn’t quite believe her. “Are you sure about this Catra? I don’t want you to get your, your heart broken.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” Because Catra is afraid. She’s afraid of losing Adora, and she can’t convince herself to actually voluntarily put distance between them. If Adora wants to be friends, friends with benefits, girlfriends, _anything_, Catra will be good. She will. She’s dealt with unreciprocated feelings towards Adora before, after all.

Although maybe she never really dealt with them at all. Does shoving them in a box under your bed count when you share a bed with her, when you hear them rattling around at night in time with Adora’s breath?

Catra feels only a little better. (Maybe she feels worse.) But it’s actually almost the time she’d normally be up, so she goes with Scorpia to the cafeteria, grabs a second muffin, and meets DT in the vehicle bay so they can drive her to the ICL.

They’re almost there when Catra gets a text. She glances at her phone. It’s Adora.

_I’m going to work in the station lab today._

She stares at the message. The perfect grammar, the punctuation at the end. Adora is normally a longform texter, but something about it sticks in her mind.

They’ve never worked separately except when forced to, not even when they ignored each other all day. She doesn’t know what to say. So she just…doesn’t respond.

Adora didn’t ask a question, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay here you go! *runs away and hides*  
You didn't think this was gonna be quite that easy, did you? And a flashback for the first time in...11 chapters! 
> 
> Just to clarify, I do NOT think Adora’s life is a sob story. She is like…objectively very successful. She doesn't think so though. :/
> 
> Go check out @jem_jarrett's [AMAZING fanart ](https://jem-jarrett.tumblr.com/post/612810828412059648/from-herothehardways-fanfic-as-long-as-we-stay) from the last chapter which I'm still crying over! (Also [on twitter](https://twitter.com/jem_jarrett/status/1239779352209842176?s=20))  
Also, I did an interview with Princesses of Power the spop fansite a while back talking about this story and it was published on Friday! You can read that [here!](https://princessesofpower.com/2020/03/20/fanfiction-friday-as-long-as-we-stay-together-if-we-just-stay-together-by-herothehardway/)


	20. With wax melted I'd meet the sea

### Adora

Adora finishes her squat set and re-racks the barbell, wiping sweat off her forehead with the bottom of her tank top. That’s the highest weight she’s squatted in a while, and her muscles are burning with it. She’ll be sore tomorrow for sure.

She’s just taking a drink of water when a voice says, “Adora!”

Adora inhales some water in surprise, and immediately starts coughing. For a split second there was a wild hope in her that it would be—but no, it’s Bow.

Bow rushes over to her. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Adora croaks, eyes watering, “What’s up?”

“Should have known better…” Bow mutters. Then he eyes the rack behind her and whistles. “That’s pretty impressive.”

Adora straightens and screws the top back on her water bottle and puts it down. She laces her hands behind her head and nods in satisfaction. “I’ve been working up to it.” And she has been. But lately she’s been in the gym almost every day, determined to drown her feelings in lactic acid.

Work has been exhausting, and all she’s really wanted to do is get each day over with, go to the gym, eat dinner, and then maybe work on her thesis some more before she crashes for the night. Rinse, repeat. Their IceCube work has ground to a halt, and Adora _knows_ it’s her fault. She’s the one holed up in the station lab, trying to only communicate via email so she doesn’t have to look Catra in the eyes.

At first, Catra sent her multiple emails a day, updating her on what was going on, questions she had. And Adora responded, of course, because she’s a professional, and sent her own emails when she was hitting a wall with their work. She always keeps her emails short and to the point, and she _never_ responds to the nudging comments that this would be a lot easier if she’d come back to the ICL.

And Catra had texted too, asked if she wanted to watch a movie in her room, asked if she wanted to bake dinner rolls, asked, and asked, and she was so damn hopeful every time. And Adora came up with excuses, even though a small part of her withered every time. _I have too much to do with my thesis. I’m too tired, sorry. Glimmer and Bow already invited me to their movie night. _All of which are lies.

She even sent her advisor her working draft of her thesis, along with a long email explaining why it’s almost unrecognizable from what she read last time. She’d said it was her first draft of this new version. Really, it was at least her third, but her advisor doesn’t need to know that. The fact that she even sent it will probably surprise her.

Adora feels sick every time she texts Catra back. Because everything in her wants to say yes. She desperately wants to watch a movie with Catra, curl up against her in Catra’s bed, probably stop watching the movie and occupy themselves with each other twenty minutes in. She wants Catra to teach her more about all the things she loves to bake, watch Catra kneading the dough and be allowed to watch.

And she can feel the hurt and confusion with every text by the increasing length of time between one text and the next. She’s doing this so she won’t hurt Catra worse, so that Catra won’t hurt _her_ worse, so that they can come out the other side and still be friends. But with every day, she has more doubts.

A couple days ago, Catra stopped texting. Adora isn’t sure whether to be relieved or heartbroken. (Both.)

But it’s starting to feel like this is maybe almost as bad as Adora’s imagined worst-case scenario. She hopes she didn’t make the wrong decision. She _needs_ this to work out.

She’s glad to see Bow. Being cooped up in the station lab all day every day is claustrophobic and lonely, and working out in the gym is cathartic but lonely. And working on her thesis is productive but lonely.

“How’s your day been?” Bow asks, casually. Casually except that he’s watching Adora, waiting for her answer with a level of attentiveness not normally reserved for social niceties.

This is a recent development. Nobody has ever checked in on Adora while she’s working, or while she’s working out. But Bow and Glimmer must be figuring out some kind of schedule behind her back because one of them pops in to say hi pretty much every day.

Adora groans. “Fine. Long.”

“Wellllll…Glimmer and I were thinking,” Bow says, “We were thinking that with all of us feeling the lull…you know, we’re on the upswing of the winter but this is the time when people have the hardest time. Because spring is coming but it’s not actually here yet. So,” He frowns, “Wait, do you know about the 300 club?”

“The what? Uh, I guess not,” Adora says, raising one eyebrow. She can hear what he’s saying besides what he’s actually saying. Which is, _We’re worried about you._

But Bow is all sunshine and rainbows when he says excitedly, “Okay, so it’s this _really fun_ challenge thing that you can only do when it’s super cold, but not stormy!”

Adora can’t imagine where this is going.

Bow continues, “And when it hits -100, you go in the sauna and crank it up to 200 degrees. And when you’re nice and toasty, you run outside and run around the pole!”

Adora wrinkles her nose. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

He laughs, “I mean, a little…some people have gotten frostbite on their genitals, but as long as you cover everything when you run, it’s fine! Usually.”

He’s obviously trying to involve her in something that isn’t working but also because apparently this is a thrill that Adora has previously not been introduced to at Amundsen-Scott, and she _loves_ thrills. He asks, “So, wanna do it? Glimmer and I are going to try, it’s supposed to get really cold tonight!”

Adora grins. It feels like she hasn’t smiled in a while. “Yeah, let’s do it!”

“Perfect!” Bow says. “So, you coming to dinner yet?”

And this is something else that’s new. Whichever one of them that comes to check on her, either at the gym or before she’s left the lab, _always_ asks if she’s coming to dinner.

Which is probably because immediately after deciding that she needed to put some space between her and Catra, Adora hadn’t come to dinner for three days in a row. Instead, she’d saved food from lunch and eaten in her room.

Glimmer had walked in, seen her munching on a cold piece of pizza on her bed, and practically frog-marched her to the cafeteria.

And Adora had sat there listening to Glimmer and Bow talk, picking at her food and feeling like there was maybe a colony of butterflies living in her stomach every time her ears picked up Catra’s distinctive raspy voice from across the cafeteria, Scorpia’s booming laugh or Entrapta’s cackle in response.

Not that she was _trying_ to pick out that particular voice.

Half an hour later she’d barely eaten half her meal, which of course Bow and Glimmer must have noticed, because normally Adora inhales her food at a frankly alarming rate.

Glimmer had looked at her, worry in her eyes.

Adora had sighed. “Just say it, Glimmer.”

“…Are you sure this is what you want?”

Adora had closed her eyes for just a second, and that was the time her brain decided to filter out all noise in the cafeteria except Catra’s. She’d heard very distinctly Catra say, _it’s kind of lonely, yeah. _Her resolve wavered. But she’d gritted her teeth and says, “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Bow slowly said, “Okay…” and then launched into a story about a mishap at the lab that day.

So now, Adora nods. “Yeah, I’m coming to dinner. Just give me a few minutes to put everything away.”

At dinner, Glimmer regales her with stories of the many hilarious mishaps that have resulted from people doing the 300 club. Which are many, apparently. They only make her more excited, despite the story about Sea Hawk tripping on his own feet and coming back absolutely covered with snow like some kind of yeti.

Glimmer is a good storyteller, and Adora is laughing by the end of dinner. She almost (almost) manages not to listen for Catra’s voice.

“So,” Bow says, rubbing his hands together, “Who’s up for a little sauna-and-chilling? And by chilling, I mean—“

“Freezing your ass off!” Glimmer pipes in.

“300 Club, here we come!” Adora says, pumping her fist into the air, spirits officially lifted.

Adora and Glimmer head back to their room and when they get there, Adora automatically starts stripping to take a shower post-gym.

Glimmer raises an eyebrow, “You know, we’re just gonna get really sweaty in the sauna.”

Adora pauses with her shirt half off. Then she tugs it back on. “Oh, I guess that’s true. Are we going like, _now_ now?” She takes it back off and finishes undressing, then wraps a towel around her.

“I mean in like five minutes,” Glimmer says, hunting around for a hair tie.

Adora scoots onto her bed in her towel, back against the wall, and drags her laptop over, intending to work on her Methods section for a couple minutes while Glimmer gets ready.

Before she can, Glimmer sighs and says, “How long are you gonna do this?”

Adora pauses with her laptop halfway open. She doesn’t need to ask Glimmer to clarify. Her eyes dart involuntarily to the photo, still on her dresser. She couldn’t manage to put it away. “…As long as it takes, I guess. Until I stop…y’know. Stop being in love with her.”

Glimmer is watching her closely when she asks, “And how long do you think that will take?”

_Forever._ “I don’t know. A while, I guess.”

Glimmer seems disappointed by her answer. She pinches the bridge of her nose, a pained look on her face. “I just don’t think this is the right way. How are you expecting Catra to feel after you’ve been avoiding her for however long you decide is,” she uses air-quotes, “_necessary_?”

If she’s being honest with herself, Adora doesn’t know. The fear that with every day, she’s losing something special, is constantly wrestling with her determination not to let that happen, reassurance that this is to _prevent_ losing anything.

She doesn’t like hearing her own thoughts told to her by Glimmer. “She’ll be fine. She’d understand, if she knew.”

Glimmer practically growls in frustration. “How the _fuck_ do you know that?”

Adora closes her eyes. “I just know. We’ve been friends for a long time, okay?”

“No! No, actually, you haven’t. You’ve been friends for four years and some-odd months. With a fucking _five year gap _where you hated the thought of each other! You don’t get to assume what another person would want, Adora, _especially _with history like you two.”

“I never really _hated_ her,” Adora mumbles. That’s a lie though. She _had_ hated Catra. She’d hated her with every fiber of her being those first few months. She’d also missed her with the same breath she’d cursed her name, missed her achingly, like a hole had been scooped out of her. And the fact that she missed her fueled Adora’s anger, at Catra, and really, mostly, at herself. _She’s_ the one who walked away. She’s not allowed to miss Catra.

She’s the one who is walking away right now, and Adora hates herself for it. Hates that she can’t let herself have one good thing. Hates the fact that whatever she tells Glimmer, she _knows_ she’s hurting Catra every time she ignores her.

She’s still powerless to resist the overwhelming urge to run away. The voice in her mind screaming, _it can’t last, _screaming that to trust Catra with her confession is to willingly wade into quicksand with no backup plan, no handy vine to save her.

It’s not that she doesn’t trust _Catra_. She trusts Catra the most, maybe. It’s that Adora hasn’t been that vulnerable with anyone in more than twenty years. It’s that the last time she loved whole-heartedly and blindly, her grandma died of a heart attack and she’d been dumped into the foster care system.

It’s that five year olds are so ready to love. So _wanting_. And she’d gone and done it again, and as it turned out, there are good foster families and not so good ones. And with every new home, Adora had gotten her heart broken a little more, and at the next one, loved a little less.

Until Catra.

## Grad Program Year Two, March

“So what I’m hearing, Adora, is that Catra represented a big risk to you. And from everything you’ve told me about your relationship with her, that was the first time in…quite a while, that you’d been vulnerable, with someone. Is that right?”

Adora grimaces and rubs her face. “…Yeah, I guess that’s right.”

Her therapist has that expression on her face, the one that means she’s about to ask Adora to do something she knows Adora won’t like. Adora tenses up.

The goal of therapy is supposed to be helping Adora with her anxiety. Which Tracy _is_. And Swiftwind, curled up at her feet, is also helping, more than Adora would have guessed he would. But somehow, Catra just keeps coming up. Adora wishes she could just leave her behind, in undergrad, where she belongs. But when they’re talking, she seems to sneak into almost every session that isn’t crisis-oriented. Which there have been a lot fewer of, thankfully, since Adora and Swiftwind really clicked. So here they are again, talking about Catra _again_.

“Sometimes, when we’ve been hurt, we have a tendency to shy away from situations that trigger the same emotions in us. And I need you to understand that that is _natural_. But,” Tracy gives her the kind of look that pins Adora in place, listening even if she doesn’t really want to, “we’re placing restrictions on ourselves that, hmm, that aren’t necessarily reflected in reality.”

Tracy pauses, apparently gauging Adora’s reaction. Adora _is_ listening, but she knows she has that blank expression that always used to get her in trouble as a kid. The one where she doesn’t allow herself to show what she’s feeling, because it might not be the _right_ emotion, the one that they _want_ to see, the one that will make them want her forever. No expression is better than to be wrong about something so important.

Tracy sighs and picks up a segmented loop toy from her desk and fiddles with it, rotating the joints until it forms a coil. Then she makes a gesture so Adora knows she’s about to throw it, and tosses it towards Adora.

Adora grabs it out of the air and her fingers occupy themselves with unwinding the toy, reconfiguring it.

“Imagine your life, Adora, if you never allow yourself to fully trust anyone with being vulnerable. If you never allow yourself to fully invest in your relationships. You’ll be missing out on a lot of joy.”

_But I’ll be safe,_ she thinks. _Nobody will have the power to hurt me_.

And Tracy is only partially right, anyway. She _had _been more vulnerable with Catra. She’d let Catra in, closer than anyone.

And she always held back, just a little. She’d been there for Catra 100%, no matter what. But she never let Catra do the same. She never did stay with the Romeros for longer than a week. She tried so hard to keep her anxiety under check, never let on to Catra that it was starting to take on a life of its own, eclipsing everything else in her life. She hadn’t ever actually trusted Catra not to disappear when she was falling. And now she’s glad she didn’t. Because as it turned out, she and Catra hadn’t been the dream team she’d thought. And however close she let Catra was too close because Adora _did_ get hurt, despite it all.

Adora doesn’t need anyone, anyway. She’s doing better now. She has Swiftwind, who is a dog and who she is free to love unconditionally. She has the people in her program and at beer league, who she is friendly with. She has someone to go get drinks with or rant about something that’s frustrating her with school anytime she wants. She doesn’t need anything else. She doesn’t want it.

Adora looks pointedly at the clock. She’s supposed to be done at 3 and it’s almost 3:15 now, but Tracy always insists on taking as long as she needs. Well, she’s taken plenty long. “I need to go, I’m meeting up with someone in ten minutes to study. Sorry.”

She’s not, but Tracy will never know that.

Tracy smiles at her, a little wearily. “Okay, well, see you next week Adora.”

Adora tosses the toy back to her, and then she’s out the door.

## Now

Glimmer and Adora practically skip to the sauna. Adora’s feeling the lightest she has in a week, and Glimmer’s bubbly energy is infectious. They’re just in their towels, but at this point in the winter, modesty is basically out the window at the station. Nobody really cares anymore. Five months of rubbing shoulders with each other has worn away pretty much everyone’s ability to give a fuck.

They skid to a halt at the door to the sauna. When Adora opens the door, she’s blasted with heat so intense her eyes water. Bow waves from inside. “Hey guys! Don’t let all the heat out!”

Inside the sauna, the heat is suffocating. Normally it’s cooler than this—not by much, but when it’s this high, even five degrees makes a difference.

Almost instantly, Adora is sweating. She lays her towel out on the wooden bench and sits down as Glimmer gets adjusted.

“So, how long do we stay in here?” She asks.

Bow shrugs. “I just got here, which is good because it’s really _way _too hot in here. But until we feel nice and toasty? It’s _extremely_ cold outside.”

Glimmer says, “Sea Hawk said ten minutes. I don’t think I can stand much more.”

Bow nods. “Oh, also, I brought the boots and gaiters. They’re at the door, and I roped Perfuma and Mermista into witnessing us.”

“Huh?” Adora asks.

“Going out barefoot would be a huge no-go. And you can wear the neck gaiter if you want, to breathe through. So you don’t get frostbite in your lungs.” Bow says with a shrug.

Adora feels a flutter of nerves. It had all sounded like fun and games earlier, but the closer they get to actually doing it, the more she’s realizing that her two best friends are the world’s biggest adrenaline junkies, apparently, and that this is one of the most stupidly risky things she may ever do.

Good thing Adora can go toe to toe with them in that department. She watches a drop of sweat form on her upper arm, beading together, then slide down her bicep into the crook of her elbow. She’s sweating so much she might as well be in a shower, and Bow and Glimmer are just as glistening.

“So, how’s this going to go, exactly?” She asks.

Bow grins, and then has to blink rapidly and wipe the sweat that dripped from his eyebrows into his eyes away. “In a couple minutes, we exit the sauna, and dry ourselves off as much as possible. You do _not _want to be sweaty out there. Then we head to the door closest to the South Pole where the boots and gaiters are. Then we make a run for it.”

He grimaces, “Well—ok don’t _actually _run. That’s how you’ll get a really nasty cough for a couple weeks while your lungs heal. But a brisk pace is good according to Sea Hawk. You don’t actually _have_ to go around the pole, just going outside is enough. But it’s the thing that’ll get you the most bragging rights. We’ll go all the way around the pole, which means going through every time zone, and then head straight back to the sauna to warm up until we’re lobsters.” He eyes the temperature gauge on the wall. “But we don’t have to go back to 200 degrees in here.”

Glimmer looks at her watch. “Okay. One more minute.”

Adora’s heart is pounding and her whole body is flushed from the heat.

“Also,” Bow adds, “We might have spectators.”

“What?” Adora asks.

“It’s not every day someone gives it a shot, let alone three people! What else is there to do?” Bow says, standing up and peeling his towel off the bench. “C’mon, lets go!”

And so despite Adora’s sudden trepidation, she’s grabbing her towel and heading out of the sauna. The air of the station is a shock on her skin as she quickly dries herself of as much sweat as she can. But she’s about to get a _lot_ colder.

It’s exhilarating though. They race through the station to the closest door to the pole naked, bare feet pounding the carpeted floor of the hallways. When the three of them come to the door, there are three pairs of insulated boots and a pile of neck gaiters, and Perfuma and Mermista are standing there, both sipping mugs of hot chocolate.

“Hi!” Perfuma says brightly, “We’ll let you back in when you get back! And someone has to verify that you did it.”

“Don’t die out there,” Mermista says laconically.

Adora grins. “Aw, it’s almost like you care!”

Mermista snorts. “Duh, can’t have my friends tripping and probably dying on my watch. Sea Hawk was _so_ obnoxious after he did it.”

Adora, Bow and Glimmer tug the boots on, then slip the gaiters over their heads to cover their noses and mouths.

They look ridiculous. All three of them are completely naked except for their bulky boots and the gaiters covering their faces. Adora says, “Ready?”

Glimmer and Bow nod. Bow pauses. “Wait, let’s do a cheer!”

“Seriously?” Glimmer says, rolling her eyes, but she puts her fist together with Bow and Adora’s.

Bow says, “One, two three!”

“Best Friends Squad!” They all cheer, and then Glimmer pushes open the door.

It’s _cold_. That’s Adora’s first, and continuing thought, as they walk quickly out the door. It’s worse than jumping into a glacial lake. She can’t really comprehend the level of cold she’s feeling right now. The heat of the sauna evaporates almost instantly in the face of negative one hundred degrees Fahrenheit, and Adora crosses her arms across her chest to protect her nipples and keep her fingers slightly warmer in her armpits as she walks quickly toward the pole.

Bow must have turned on the external floods this direction, which is fortunate since it’s pitch dark otherwise. The sky is heavy with clouds, no stars in sight tonight.

The three of them make their way towards the South Pole. By three-quarters of the way there, Adora is realizing that this is a terrible, stupid idea and that anyone who does it definitely has a death wish. By the time they get to the small snow platform and circle of flags, her teeth are chattering.

First Bow, then Adora, and finally Glimmer trot around the pole and Adora manages to take a second to think about how cool it is, that they’ve just passed through every time zone on Earth. But now it’s the home stretch and the station has never felt so far away. Adora didn’t know she could feel numb over her entire body, but here they are.

They’re halfway back. “C’mon, we’re almost there!” Adora shouts to Glimmer, who is lagging slightly behind her and Bow. There are ice crystals on Glimmer’s eyelashes when she nods at Adora. Her throat and lungs _burn_.

Right now Adora doesn’t think she could actually run, even if she wanted to. Her muscles feel completely frozen. Finally, they reach the door and it opens right as they’re reaching it. Adora’s eyeballs feel practically frozen in place, but she can feel the warm air whooshing out with the light. The three of them shuffle inside.

Adora can’t feel her skin.

But Perfuma is beaming. “Congratulations! You three are now officially members of the 300 club!”

Mermista throws a handful of confetti over them, completely straight-faced. “You did it.”

Perfuma holds out three commemorative patches to them. “We have these special patches for anyone who does it. You’re in an elite club!”

“With Sea Hawk, so it’s a mixed bag,” Mermista says, but even she can’t keep the smile from playing around the corner of her mouth.

Adora says, breathing hard, “Can you—hang onto those? I don’t think I can–feel my fingers.”

Perfuma’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh my god I’m so sorry! Get your butts to the sauna ASAP! I’ll bring your patches.” She makes a shooing motion at them.

They hustle as fast as they can back the way they came only a few minutes ago. Adora is grinning like a lunatic. “I can’t believe we just did that!” She crows.

Glimmer is beaming when she says, “I know! Wow, I’ve wanted one of those patches for _forever!”_

Bow laughs, “If I could feel any part of my body I’d hug you both! We did it!”

The people they run into in the halls clap as they pass. Adora supposes there isn’t anything else they could_ possibly_ have just gotten back from doing. Her skin is starting to burn as it warms back up.

They finally get back to the sauna. Perfuma hands them all their patches. “Well, congratulations again! She turns to Mermista. “Let’s get back to game night, just _looking_ at you guys is making me cold!”

Bow, Glimmer and Adora kick off their boots and pull their gaiters off. Adora has to laugh again. “Glimmer, your hair!”

Glimmer’s hair is standing straight up in a shock of pink and purple after yanking the gaiter off.

Bow grins. “Oh man, I wish I had a camera.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “You two are ridiculous.” Like she hasn’t just participated in the same ridiculous challenge they had.

Adora just keeps smiling. She yanks open the door to the sauna and walks in, calling over her shoulder, “While you two bicker, I’m going to get warmed—“ she cuts off abruptly, her heart dropping into her stomach.

Catra and Scorpia are sitting in the sauna.

Adora stops so fast that Glimmer bowls right into the back of her, forcing her to take a step forward.

Catra is lying back on her elbows, in the sauna. Or she was. Now she’s sitting bolt upright, staring at Adora with eyes wide.

Adora has never been so aware of her own nudity.

She looks away, because Catra’s gaze is full of hurt, of confusion, but then her eyes land on Catra’s collarbone, where a pool of sweat is gathered, skitter down over her breasts, her stomach, and _fuck_ this is so so inappropriate—she wrenches her eyes to stare fixedly at the steam rocks.

“I—“ Adora stutters, “Sorry I didn’t know you were—were going to be—“ she squeezes her eyes shut, feels her cheeks burning, and finishes, “—here. I—“ She turns back towards the door, straight into Glimmer, and pushes past her and Bow to the door. “I gotta—I gotta go. See you guys later.”

And she snatches up her towel and hurriedly wraps it around herself and almost runs upstairs to her dorm hallway. Just as she’s running up the stairs, she hears what sounds like arguing, but nothing she can make the words out to. And then the _slam_ of the sauna door again.

Adora rushes to her room, fumbling with the key fob so she can unlock this goddamn door—_finally—_and escape inside.

She leans heavily back against the door, eyes closed, panting.

And then she shivers. Her skin is burning as it warms up, but that does nothing for the ice that seems to have taken up residence in Adora’s internal organs. And now there’s no way she’s going back to the sauna. Not when Catra is in there.

She pushes herself upright and goes to grab her shower caddy when she realizes her patch is folded tightly in her hand. She presses it flat with stiff fingers, actually looking at it this time. There’s the number 300, and then the official South Pole, and a temperature gauge. It’s a cute patch. She sets it on her nightstand before heading to the shower.

She turns the water temperature up the highest it will go and stands under the shower until it shuts off automatically, having run for the maximum time they’re allowed to shower. She can feel her fingers and toes, but maybe she’ll go back to the sauna later because she doesn’t really feel warm. Her chest aches, and it’s impossible to suppress her desire to cough, which is probably her body complaining of the fact that she’s just subjected it to a 300 degree temperature change. That’s why it feels like she can’t quite get a full breath in. That’s the only reason.

She’s exhausted.

By the time she gets back to her room, that second sauna session idea is laughable. All she wants to do is collapse into bed and sleep for a thousand years.

She gets ready for bed and crawls under the covers, trying to pretend that she’s not still cold.

After a few minutes she sits back up and pulls an extra blanket out to lay over her quilt. It’s a little better.

Adora is almost drifting off to sleep when Glimmer comes back. She flicks the lights on, and Adora burrows further under the blankets to escape the light

“We missed you in the sauna,” Glimmer says tentatively, “Catra left right after you.”

“Don’t.” Adora mumbles. She’s too tired to argue with Glimmer about this whole thing.

Glimmer, to her credit, doesn’t push. She just sighs, and grabs her own shower caddy and leaves the room.

Adora falls asleep almost instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets go sad dumb gays lets go! Gosh I made myself sad with this chapter. : (  
Hope everyone is holding up with coronavirus. :) Stay safe out there <3


	21. Death trap clad happily

### Catra

Catra has taken up working in the library, or in her dorm room, instead of going out to the ICL all by herself. It’s too empty, too lonely. It’s too full of Adora too. Which hurts, a lot, since her life is currently completely devoid of Adora.

It doesn’t help that she has no fucking clue what happened. One minute they were sneaking out to the ski cabin to watch the stars and have sex, the next, nothing. Radio silence. Well, not _quite_ radio silence. Catra had texted her with the same frequency as before at first, caught between the overwhelming desire to spend as much time as possible with Adora, and her effort not to get too caught up with her feelings and let them sweep her too far out to sea.

Adora _does_ text back. Well, did. Perfunctory stuff, excuses that were as transparent as gossamer. The length of time between Catra’s texts and Adora’s responses stretching longer and longer until finally Catra just stopped. She doesn’t want to constantly be waiting for Adora to respond, hoping that maybe this time will be different.

It’s such a sharp contrast from before that Catra doesn’t understand what Adora’s angle could possibly be. Is she trying to…break up with her? Maybe, although they were never strictly speaking _dating_. Or anything. She’d hope that Adora would have the guts to say so to her face if that’s the case, but Catra isn’t sure of that, even. Maybe she just doesn’t want to believe it’s over.

She _thought_ they were going to be friends again. And then they started messing around, and she’d thought that being friends with benefits still included the _friends_ part. It had felt like that, anyway.

Clearly, she’d been wrong. And that haunts her the most, the miscalculation of it. Trying to fit the last couple months into a lens where she’d been nothing more than a convenient body for Adora.

She doesn’t want to believe it. Adora had never been…_callous_ like that in college. Honestly, she never knew Adora to go on more than a second date with _anyone, _so clearly she’s not someone who absolutely needs sex to feel fulfilled. And she’d helped write too many kind but clear _I had a nice time but I’m not interested in anything further_ texts over Adora’s shoulders to quite be able to believe Adora would just drop her like this.

And yet. Here she is. Apparently having been dropped.

This is what they don’t mention about Amundsen-Scott in the winter. When people find themselves those ice-partners, the close proximity often makes or breaks it. Whoever you settle in with might be great and fulfill your needs. But they might also drive you nuts. Catra doesn’t _think_ she drives Adora nuts.

And yet. Here she is.

And that night under the Aurora had been. Well, honestly the stuff of Catra’s fantasies. She keeps a list in the back of her mind of ideas for romantic dates, if she was ever in the kind of relationship that involved romantic dates (and not everyone likes them. But Catra _loves_ them), and when Adora had suggested going out and watching the Aurora all night, she’d immediately bookmarked it.

And then of course it _was_ romantic, terribly terribly romantic, and so bittersweet in retrospect because of course it hadn’t meant what she now realizes she desperately wants it to have meant. And it _had_ to have meant something different for Adora, because this is the second week that Adora has avoided interacting with her completely.

Well, not _completely._

But Adora must have noticed. She must have noticed, and figured it out. She must _know_, and this is her way of trying to let Catra down gently, somehow. It’s not gentle. It’s spiky and jagged and there’s blood, but Adora is not good at subtlety and Catra probably shouldn’t have expected more.

Adora must know that Catra is in love with her, and now that she knows, she’s too uncomfortable with continuing their arrangement.

The thought of it makes Catra feel curiously empty. Not sad, exactly, although she is. And not angry either, although she _is_ angry, frustrated that Adora can’t just tell her anything, and is instead all but ghosting her. But it doesn’t surprise her, not really.

She just thought they were past this, is all. She thought that they were getting better at this whole communication business. And it’s frustrating to have no idea if it’s something she did, or if this is completely an Adora thing. She supposes being in love with Adora is kind of something she did. The problem is, she doesn’t think she’s capable of stopping.

There are too many options, and Catra has spent a week and a half winding herself through a convoluted maze of what-ifs and speculations. Her only clue is that Adora seems to be almost as miserable as her. Catra’s eyes are constantly attracted to her in the cafeteria, ever since she stopped showing up for dinner immediately after that first text. Adora slumps and leaves food on her plate at the end of a meal, something so uncharacteristic of her that clearly something is off. She’s a fraction as animated in her conversations with Glimmer and Bow as normal.

It’s…almost satisfying. To see so clearly that Adora is suffering. Catra doesn’t like to think of herself as a vindictive person, but right now…she _wants_ Adora to be hurting as much as she is right now. Connected in their shared misery, but at least they have it in common.

Maybe it’s just her stupid hormone-filled brain that thinks that they could still have a perfectly good friendship without any of the physical stuff. It probably is, if the way she yearns for it is a clue.

If the way her mind runs through scenarios where they’re friends, and then somehow Catra casually drops that actually she would like it very much if they would resume their arrangement, and perhaps add in some other things like going on dates and buying Adora flowers to surprise her and teaching Adora how to actually cook and stealing kisses from her way too often for her to actually learn anything, and Adora agrees that that sounds like a wonderful plan, yes please, is any indication.

Catra sighs and drops her forehead onto the table, barely missing her plate with the remnants of her omelet and toast.

And last night…

Last night when Scorpia had finally dragged her out of her room to sauna, telling her that this funk was officially being interrupted. And they’d been there all of five minutes when who had arrived but Adora, barging into the sauna completely naked.

The image is imprinted on Catra’s brain, possibly forever.

She’s roused from her reverie by a clatter as Scorpia joins her for breakfast (well, dinner). “Hey wildcat,” Scorpia says, yawning, and Catra tilts her head to the side so she can see Scorpia with one eye.

Scorpia frowns at her. “Boy, I thought _I _was tired, but you look exhausted and you haven’t even had a whole day yet!”

Catra sort of groans.

Scorpia takes a bite of her bagel and cream cheese, chews, then takes a swig of coffee. She raises an eyebrow. “Listen Catra, why don’t you go out to the ICL today? Maybe it would help you focus to be in the normal environment. You know, get back in your groove!”

Catra lethargically flips her phone face-up and checks her email. “There’s a weather advisory though…” She mumbles.

Scorpia peers at Catra’s phone. “It says that’s not supposed to roll in until the evening, I’m sure you’ll be fine. It would be good for you.”

Catra heaves herself upright and glumly finishes her omelet. “Fine, but only because I need to check some things anyway.”

Scorpia smiles a mile wide.

She locates Double Trouble in the Vehicle Bay. “Hey DT, wanna take me to the lab?”

They look at her, apparently surprised. “Haven’t gone out there in what, a week? Well this is _good!_ New environments are just the thing to get you—not you _specifically_, of course, the general you, out of a _funk_.”

“I’m not in a funk. Why does everyone keep saying I’m in a funk? And I’m going over because I have work I can only do there. Let’s just go already,” Catra grouses, and climbs up into the passenger seat.

“Whatever you say, kitten,” DT says, and slides fluidly into the driver’s seat.

They’re halfway to the lab when Double Trouble gives her a sidelong look. “I can’t help but notice that you seem to be…down, lately.”

Catra slumps further down in her seat. “Yeah, well, that’s how it goes, I guess.”

They bite their lip. After several long seconds, DT says, “I also can’t help noticing that Adora hasn’t been to the lab for almost the same amount of time that you’ve been unhappy. Lovers tiff?”

At the mention of her name, Catra’s stomach clenches. “I wish,” she laughs hollowly, “But that would imply that we’re lovers.”

“I did try,” DT says mournfully.

“Ha. Yeah. Adora and me…Adora, she…she has her own demons. I don’t know what they are. She never talks about that shit. Somehow this translates to, well. Her avoiding me after we had sex.” Catra gets quieter and quieter as she speaks, until she whispers those final words.

Hearing them out loud is a blow that she hasn’t yet experienced. She turns away from DT and stares out the window, although all she can see is the grey darkness of the night, indirectly lit by the truck’s headlights.

“That is…that’s unfortunate,” Double Trouble finally says, all their normal lilt gone from their voice. “Somehow Adora always struck me as a considerate and kind person.”

Catra’s laugh is flat. “Yeah, well, mostly. Seems like I’m the exception.”

They arrive at the ICL, and Catra sighs and flips her hood up. “It’s fine. I’m—I’ll be fine. See you tonight.” She climbs out of the cab and trudges up the stairs to the second floor door to the lab.

Below her, the truck backs out of the loading bay, turns around, and is almost immediately lost to view except for the glow of its headlights, as it’s swallowed up by the gusting ice crystals that fill the air.

Catra gets the door open and heads inside. When she flicks the lights on, she sees a coffee mug that she must have forgotten to clean up a week ago. That was the last time she’d been in the lab.

Really, this is almost business as usual. Adora always got to work promptly at 9, meaning Catra has always had this hour to herself.

But somehow, the lab feels emptier, knowing she’s by herself for the next eight hours. She didn’t tell DT to come get her for lunch, snagged a granola bar on her way out of the cafeteria. She figures she’ll just power through the day and then crash. The more tired she is, the less time she has to think, and she’s been thinking entirely too much lately. She opens the coffeemaker and peels the old filter out and into the trash and rinses it out, then puts a new one in and scoops coffee grounds in.

She teased Adora about her inexplicable confusion when it comes to coffee making, just two weeks ago.

She refills the water, and leans against the counter while she’s waiting for the coffee to be miraculously produced. Her stomach swoops when she realizes that she made enough for two people.

She could have gone after Adora last night. She _should_ have. It had been her first real opportunity since Adora started avoiding her. The second Adora had rushed out of the sauna, Scorpia was staring at Catra, eyes wide. She’d hissed, “Go after her!”

To which Catra had replied, “I’m not fucking doing that, are you stupid?” Which maybe wasn’t the best response, but she’d been out of sorts. The double-whammy of Adora appearing naked in the sauna all flushed and exhilarated like the start of a super niche porno featuring lonely scientists (albeit with three other people present), followed by the gut-punch of her immediately doing an about-face and practically running out of the sauna after the thinnest scrap of an excuse, all on top of having been ignored for over a week, had left Catra both upset and kind of turned on, which combined to mean she just felt incredibly shitty.

Scorpia had glared at her, uncharacteristically direct in her criticism. “So you’re just going to let this happen? I thought you went after what you wanted.”

Her words cut to the bone, and Catra didn’t come to the sauna to be berated and criticized, so she’d stood up, snatched her towel, and said angrily, “You don’t fucking get to tell me what to do, got that Scorpia?”

She’d headed for the door, only to realize that Glimmer and Bow were still standing there. She’d barged past them, the second person to in as many minutes, as Scorpia called behind her, “If she’s running away from her problems, you’re running away from _her_!”

To which Catra had shoved the sauna door open, hard, and whipped around to shoot back, “You don’t know _anything_ about this, Scorpia!”

Because Scorpia is wrong. Catra isn’t running away, she’s trying to avoid getting sliced to shreds by her own feelings.

And she’d made it all the way to her room powered by that simmering anger, until she’d gotten there and realized that once again she’d lashed out at her friend, which she promised herself she wouldn’t do.

Maybe she _is_ running. Maybe that’s too active a word. Maybe she’s hiding, waiting it out. She’ll poke her head up in a couple weeks maybe, to see the wreckage more clearly, when the sight doesn’t make her dizzy with longing for something vanished into thin air.

Maybe…maybe Catra _does_ let go too easily. Gives up too easily. Because when Adora had left…Catra could have tried to fix things. She didn’t, because she was angry and heartbroken and she wanted Adora to come to _her:_ she wanted Adora to apologize. It never felt _easy_ to her.

It wasn’t fair that as days stretched into weeks and months, Adora never texted her, never called her.

And Adora never did, and Catra never did either, and that’s how it stayed for five long years.

They’re both too stubborn for their own good. And sure, now Catra recognizes that while Adora had maybe been…_more_ in the wrong, she had also done plenty to mess things up back then.

She doesn’t think that’s the case now.

But now that she’s thinking about it, there’s more than one thing keeping her away. It’s not just her worry about freaking Adora out if she tells her about her feelings. She also…really doesn’t want to be onboard that ship if it’s sinking. Last time was hard enough, and this aching hollow feeling is so much better than _that. _That explosive, destructive fight and the feeling of drowning for _months_ after (or longer). Finding shards years later, that she’d ignored or forgotten until they cut her.

So for the past week she’s been making work difficult for herself on purpose because being here reminds her too much of Adora.

Catra pours herself a cup of coffee. She gets out the creamer, then hesitates for a second. Maybe the bitterness of black coffee is all she deserves right now.

She takes a sip.

Nope. Inner bitterness does not make drinking black coffee any more enjoyable. Catra sighs and dumps creamer into her mug until it’s blonde and milky.

She heads back into the lab and gets started. She’s so much more productive here, it’s a shame that everything in here makes her want to break a DOM on purpose.

Catra gets more done in an hour than she has in the previous two days though. She heads downstairs to the stacks with her laptop to check on some things once she launches a script. Down here, the hum of computers is louder. And here is where she’d hauled Adora to her feet, what feels like an eternity ago. It was before they’d made up, but even then Catra hadn’t been able to forget the feel of Adora’s hand in hers, the mere inches between them, the way Adora had looked down at their hands and her cheeks had flushed.

Catra probably should have figured out a lot of things a lot sooner.

Suddenly, her ears pick up what sounds like…a truck engine? She feels it more than hears it, above the constant hum of computers and the wailing of the wind outside.

Who could possibly be out here? Catra goes to a window and creates a little oval with her hands to block out the light in the station. She puts her face up against them and squints outside to the loading bay right below her. There’s the glow of headlights, although an hour later the blowing ice is worse enough that she can’t even see the shape of the truck. The headlights move backwards, then turn and grow dimmer as the truck heads back to the station.

Catra frowns. Did someone just get dropped off?

Upstairs, the door beeps, and Catra takes the stairs two at a time. She’s just in time to see the door open in a swirl of ice crystals and someone in a ubiquitous red coat come inside and slam the door shut behind them.

Catra knows who it is before she’s even pulled down her balaclava or pushed her hood back.

She watches Adora’s hand automatically feel for the light switch on her right, and Catra can see the moment it registers that the lights are already on. She watches as Adora’s gaze tracks from the light fixture, to the half full coffeepot, to Catra’s red coat hanging on the coat rack, finally to Catra herself, still a few steps below the second floor.

Adora tugs her balaclava down, grey-blue eyes wide, and Catra watches her mouth open.

Catra beats her to the punch. “What are you doing here?” She says roughly. Because the _last_ thing she expected today was Adora, here in the ICL.

Adora presses her lips into a line, color high in her cheeks, and her eyes cut away from Catra’s. “I—“ she lets out a huff, glares back in the general direction of the station. “Glimmer said—I’ll. I’ll just call Sea Hawk. I can. I’ll go.” She pulls out her phone.

“No!” Catra says, more forcefully than she meant to.

Adora stops dialing.

“…look. What did Sparkles say.” Catra asks flatly.

Adora keeps looking at that damn coffeepot like it means something, which kind of makes Catra’s blood boil. It doesn’t mean anything. Just that she followed her stupid habit. Adora stares into the middle distance and mumbles, “She said that, uh. That you weren’t gonna. Be. Uh. Be here.”

Catra isn’t sure whether to be happy Adora is actually being honest, or mad about _what_ she’s being honest about.

“You’re already here. And we both know we haven’t gotten anything done since you—“ _Since you started avoiding me, “_Since you’ve been working at the station.” Catra finishes.

Adora takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes briefly. “Okay. Sure, we can do that.” She takes her backpack off and slowly unzips her coat and hangs it on a second coat hook. She walks over to the coffeepot and takes her favorite mug out of the dish drainer, where it’s been sitting untouched for ten days.

Adora goes to slide the coffeepot out, and then her hand does this kind of jerking redirecting motion. She doesn’t look at Catra as she says, “Were you going to drink this or…”

“You can have it,” Catra says, as neutrally as she can manage, “Just start a new pot after.”

Catra is still standing on the third step from the top. She takes another long look at Adora, who is concentrating on pouring herself a cup of coffee so intently that she should win a medal for it. Then she heads back downstairs to retrieve her laptop.

When she gets back to the lab, Adora is sitting at her normal computer, intently working. Catra barely suppresses a sigh. It’s clear that Adora doesn’t want to talk, and would rather be anywhere but here.

Catra feels a little bad telling her to stay, but she was just being honest. They’ve gotten basically nothing done in the past week and a half, and they’re over two-thirds through the winter. If they really want the IceCube to be fully functional by the time the summer crew arrive, they _have_ to work faster than this.

And she _shouldn’t _feel bad. She hasn’t fucking done anything to deserve this from Adora.

After an hour, Adora gets up and starts looking at the DOM they have set up in the corner.

Catra tries to focus on what she’s doing, but finally curiosity gets the best of her. “What are you doing?” She asks, spinning in her chair to face Adora.

Adora glances up briefly, a crease between her eyebrows. “Just, uh, checking some things.”

“What things?” Catra pushes, “I could have some insights, you never know.” Her tone is borderline confrontational, but this feels like they’re back to square one, _again_. She knows Adora can act professional if she tries.

Adora frowns. “Have you thought much more about the cable length theory?”

Catra raises an eyebrow. “I thought we—I thought you thought it wasn’t plausible.”

Adora combs back the wisps of hair that have fallen out from her ponytail with her fingers. “Yeah. Well…I thought some more about it. I guess.”

Catra asks exasperatedly, “And?”

“Well, we eliminated the other theories we came up with. I thought we should re-examine it.”

Catra’s heart flutters at that use of “we”, even though she _knows _it means nothing. Obviously they have worked together for the past five months. They’re lab partners if nothing else.

Catra realizes suddenly that she’s _angry_. She’s angry at Adora. “Anything else we should _re-examine?”_

Adora’s gaze flicks to her for a fraction of a second, then away. Her shoulders, the set of her jaw, everything about her screams that no, she does _not_ want to.

But Catra is tired. She’s so tired of waiting, of acting like she doesn’t care as much as she really does. Adora doesn’t get to dictate everything like a monarch handing down commands_._

Catra sets her jaw. She’s going to drag something, _anything_, out of Adora if it kills her. Even if she breaks her own heart doing so, at least she’ll know.

“If you want to call it off—“ And then she falters. If she forces Adora to make a decision, Adora will…actually make a decision. Can she live with that?

And that’s the whole problem. Adora has all the power right now, not her. Forcing Adora to speak the words that match her actions just further cements that.

So Catra sets her jaw, and starts over. “It would be nice to know what I’ve done wrong, Adora. And it would be really nice to know why you’ve chosen to ignore me for ten fucking days. And it would be _extra _nice if you would ever fucking talk to me instead of making decisions that affect _both_ of us without so much as an explanation. So. I’m going to sit here and work on my program, and you can do whatever the fuck you want until lunch. If you want to fucking _talk_, I’m here. If you don’t that’s fine by me, but don’t come back this afternoon. Got it?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, doesn’t watch her words fall on Adora. She just spins her chair back around as aggressively as she can in a swivel chair, and resumes typing, fingers hitting the keyboard like little hammers.

Adora pushes open the lab door behind her and leaves. Catra closes her eyes for a moment.

After a minute, she can hear Adora talking on the phone.

_“You said she wouldn’t be here!”_

A pause.

_“I _know_ what I said, I meant it.”_

Another pause.

_Glimmer—you don’t get to control my love life, okay? This isn’t—fine.”_

A pause.

_“Well stop trying to help all the fucking time!”_

This time, the silence is longer. Adora must have hung up. Well, if you can call it silence. The howling of the wind has increased in intensity, and every once in a while, Catra’s coffee gets tiny vibrations when a particularly forceful gust hits.

Suddenly, Catra’s phone buzzes. It’s…an Emergency Weather Update? She doesn’t usually get push notifications like this. She reads the message.

_Winter storm warning has been upgraded to blizzard status due to near-whiteout conditions. For everyone’s safety, no staff may leave the station. All vehicles are grounded until further notice. Weather forecast predicts increased windspeeds and visibility near zero._

Catra leaps out of her chair and rushes out of the lab. She notices in the back of her mind that Adora is sitting on the couch head in her hands, but she blows past her and yanks open the door.

A blast of arctic air meets her. She leans into the wind and takes a few steps out the door, even as it leaches the heat from her body. She can’t see _anything, _just a rectangle of white where the light from the door spills out, and beyond that, nothing except grey-blackness. They can normally see the station from here, it’s not very far away, but right now, all she can see is swirling ice crystals as fine as sand.

_Whiteout._

“Catra, what are you _doing?”_ Comes Adora’s voice from behind her, and when Catra turns, she _knows _she’s only a few feet from the door, out on the landing to the staircase. But instead of being able to see into the station, all she sees is the bright rectangle of the doorway and an indistinct shadow that must be Adora.

Catra stumbles back toward the door, and pushes past Adora into the warmth of the lab. Her fingers and nose are numb.

It takes a couple tries to get her fingers to call Scorpia, but when she does, Scorpia picks up on the first ring. “Wildcat! Are you okay? Did you get the message? Oh my gosh I can’t believe today of all days—We _never _thought—this weather system came out of nowhere! And now it’s all our fault—“

“Scorpia,” Catra says, cutting her off, “Slow down. What are you talking about? Who is _we?”_

Scorpia sniffs, obviously close to tears. “Don’t be mad, okay? It’s just that, last night, after you left the sauna…well, Bow and Glimmer and I got to talking. And we agreed that you and Adora really need to talk—like, _really, _and so we thought, well, this would be the…best…way?”

“I’m going to need you to spell it out for me,” Catra says, low and intense, pressing the phone to her ear like her life depends on it.

Scorpia says in a rush, “We agreed to get both of you to the station at the same time because you need to talk, it’s for your own good! But now you’re going to be_ stuck _there, and the updated forecast doesn’t show this letting up any time soon! I’m so sorry!”

Catra slowly looks up towards Adora, who is motionless beside her. From her stricken expression, she heard every word Scorpia just said.

Catra numbly says, “We’re stuck here.”

Adora’s jaw slowly drops open. After a second, she says under her breath, _“Fuck.”_

Catra agrees with that sentiment precisely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TECHNICALLY it's still Sunday...in my timezone...  
In other news. What's this? A cliffhanger? Something that was foreshadowed approximately 90,000 words ago?  
Scorpia, Bow and Glimmer finally had Enough. It's not their fault that their bid to force Catra and Adora into proximity so they can talk ended up...trapping them at the IceCube lab during the worst storm to hit the South Pole since the Scott expedition?  
Also here's an example of [whiteout conditions](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHd1G4w5wJU), which is really boring because it's just...completely white. Although in this case it would be dark. In really bad conditions you can't see your own hand on the end of your arm.


	22. Love and its decisive pain

### Catra

With one phone call, Catra abandons all intentions of getting work done today. Or getting work done at all until they’re no longer trapped in the ICL.

Also, Adora is coughing now, big hacking coughs into her sleeve.

Despite herself, despite how upset she is at Adora right now, Catra feels a twinge of worry. “Uh. Are you ok?” She asks.

Adora gives her a thumbs up from her bent-over position, still coughing. When she subsides after another few lungh-wracking coughs, she straightens up. “Cold air—last night—“

Catra says, for a lack of anything better to say, “…Y’all joined the 300 Club, huh?”

She wants to grab Adora by the lapels and demand an explanation, rather than making this inane small talk, but she’s not made of stone. Adora sounds like she’s about to hack up a lung.

Adora has her hands on her hips, frowning at the floor and taking slow, careful, deep breaths. “Yeah. Have you ever—” But she doesn’t finish that sentence.

Catra is glad. She doesn’t want to talk about last night.

Adora says, “We need to take an inventory.”

Catra shakes her head minutely, trying to follow Adora’s train of thought. “What? Why?”

“To see what our emergency supplies look like. Unless you’re planning on surviving on that granola bar,” Adora says, eyeing the bar she’d grabbed this morning on the kitchenette counter.

“Uh, no.” It’s funny. Catra has always been the more articulate of the two of them. Adora is supposed to be the one fumbling for words. But Catra feels out to sea, nothing below her feet but water. She supposes that is literally true, almost. A frozen sea.

Adora starts opening cupboards and drawers, pulling boxes out from their shelves and investigating their contents. Catra gets the very strong impression she’s trying to occupy herself on purpose.

“Uh, what are you looking for?” Catra asks dumbly. This is probably useful stuff, and Adora loves to be useful, but the cognitive dissonance of having basically _just _given Adora an ultimatum, only to have that snatched out from under her, is still making her head spin. She supposes Adora can’t exactly escape back to the station now. Which is good because Catra deserves an explanation, except that now Adora doesn’t have to _choose_ to stay. She has to whether she likes it or not. There was something important in having to choose.

“There’s gotta be a, like, a list of some kind, somewhere,” Adora says, voice muffled as she sticks her head in a cupboard.

“…I think there’s a checklist,” Catra says, and locates it in a hard plastic case by the door. “Yeah. This is it.”

She scans the list. Emergency first aid kit. Thermal blankets. Dehydrated food, which is itemized. Bingo. She sets the clipboard on the counter, then crosses her arms and stands watching Adora as she gets up from investigating a bin full of what looks like the very emergency supplies that the checklist describes.

Adora loves to be useful. Can’t stand just sitting around doing nothing. She always wants to help. Somehow this observation of her good qualities just makes Catra more miserable. She’ll help anyone, except Catra, when it matters.

This is the first time she’s been in close proximity with Adora since that night. And for better or for worse, Catra still feels that draw to her. She’d been so sure, that night, and so unsure the next morning talking to Scorpia, but being back in Adora’s presence is simultaneously intoxicating and bitter. She _wants_ Adora to succeed in explaining. To have a good reason, to make everything better, so Catra doesn’t feel so inescapably terrible, so they can go back to before. But she knows that she can’t. That she’s not just going to be able to forget Adora’s capacity for this, even if it’s unintentional, even if it’s well-meaning, even if she has the best explanation in the universe.

But. She does want Adora to _try_.

Adora crows with success and pulls out a sealed foil packet. “Lunch!”

Catra reluctantly peers at the clipboard again, scanning the freeze-dried meals listed out. She kind of wants to be petty and not respond. But after a long moment she asks “What is that?”

Adora shrugs, “Chicken Alfredo or something?” She gets to her feet and opens the dish cupboard to grab a bowl. There are actually a number of non-mug dishes here, but Catra has never used them. She guesses she’ll get the chance to now.

Catra peruses the list of foods and then fishes around in the bin for a Curry Rice. Adora has already filled up an electric teapot and switched it on. So now they wait.

Awkwardly.

Catra texts Scorpia, _i cant believe u trapped me here with Adora _

A minute later, Scorpia’s reply, _We are SO sorry :’(_

Catra rolls her eyes at that, texts back, _ur gonna owe me…so many things when we get back_

When the water finally boils, Adora is quick to pour it into her foil bag, grab a fork, and head to the couch.

Catra pours her own water, and then stands in the kitchenette for a minute. Finally, she heads over to the couch and sits as far away as possible from Adora while they eat their respective lunches. Silently.

If Adora doesn’t want to talk, that’s. That’s fine. Catra sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to. She meant what she said earlier. It’s on Adora.

### Adora

The moment Adora saw her on the stairs, mismatched eyes watching her from between two slats of the railing, she knew. She knew with bone-deep certainty that she made the wrong decision. That she’s caused Catra unnecessary suffering. She could tell in the way Catra’s eyes widened, in the slight hunch to her shoulders, in the way Catra met her gaze head on and didn’t look away and didn’t smile either.

In the same moment, she also had the realization that what she told Glimmer was a lie. She never really believed herself when she said that Catra would understand. She hadn’t made any genuine attempt to put herself in Catra’s shoes, for even a second.

The knowledge is still settling over her as she finishes her Chicken Alfredo, scraping every last bit out of the pouch even though she feels vaguely nauseous.

She tracks Catra out of the corner of her eye as her lab partner finishes her lunch. Catra stands up and heads to the sink after a while, throws her own pouch away and washes her fork and spoon. Then she wanders into the lab.

She never looks at Adora.

“Wait,” Adora says, heart pounding.

Catra stop, hand on the door handle, and Adora can see the tension in every line of her body.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out, and then she clamps her mouth shut. _Not_ the right thing to say.

Catra’s glance at her cuts like a knife. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time. Try harder.”

And she heads into the computer lab.

It feels like her breath was snatched by the wind hammering the lab. Adora feels tears forming and blinks furiously to hold them back. She can’t get emotional. She’ll never make it through this if she can’t keep it together now, after two measly words.

She’s not used to cleaning up this kind of mess, the emotional kind. She usually just avoids them until they hurt less.

And she’s made a mess of everything, and this time it matters the most it ever has. Maybe enough to do what she should have done every time. Because this is _Catra_.

Adora cleans up her lunch robotically. She wants to come up with a game plan, but every time she tries to think it through her thoughts feel scattered and incoherent. She stops washing her silverware five minutes after they’re clean after going down a rabbit hole where Catra is so disgusted by her terrible, terrible apology that she tries to leave the station and freezes to death.

She shakes herself. That isn’t going to happen. And she can’t predict what Catra is going to do or say. She barely even knows what _she’s _going to say. But she can’t just stand here and wash the dishes ‘til the cows come home.

She walks to the computer lab door, and puts her hand on the handle. She stares at it for a second, her fingers around the dull aluminum.

Adora opens the door and takes a step in. She leans against the doorframe, arms tightly crossed. The door swings shut behind her, and the handle presses uncomfortably into her back.

Catra is sitting at her computer, staring at the screen, hands clasped in her lap. She doesn’t look at Adora, but she’s obviously waiting. Listening.

“What do you know about loneliness?” Adora finally asks.

Catra scoffs. “Loneliness? What kind of bullshit is this?”

Adora closes her eyes. “You deserve an apology. But you deserve an explanation…way more. So I was. I was going to start there.”

“Fine.” Catra says. There’s a hard edge to her voice. She’s still staring at the computer. Well. Adora doesn’t deserve anything different.

“So…” Adora says hesitantly.

Catra’s face contorts into a peculiar expression and she practically spits, “It’s when you miss being around people, I guess, I don’t—“

“No.” Adora cuts her off. “It’s not that. It’s different that being by yourself and wishing you weren’t.” She stops for a moment. “It’s wondering if one single person in the world cares about you enough to ask how you’re doing and mean it. It’s making friends and them never wanting to stay when the going gets tough. It’s moving through the world and standing apart from it.”

She stares out the window to the flat grey of the storm. It looks almost unreal, the uniformity of the outside world. Like they’re in a play and someone forgot to paint the scenery outside the window of the set. Like everything beyond the confines of the lab doesn’t exist at all.

“I grew up with other kids around most of the time. But they didn’t…usually they were happy to play, but I was always the first one to be left out if they wanted to just play with their…their friends.” She worms her finger through a hole in the seam of her thermal half-zip that she’s been worrying, right on her bra line. “Mostly because nobody likes a suck-up. And they could see it, clear as day. Even if my foster parents didn’t.”

Little Adora always did her chores promptly and efficiently. She always volunteered to do the extra ones that nobody wanted. She tried so hard to be a perfect picture of a girl. And she’d failed, she’d messed up. Accidentally dropped the plate while putting it away. Left her things where they weren’t supposed to be left. Got in trouble at school for her illegible handwriting and never managing to turn her perfect homework in on time. It didn’t matter if she’d worked so hard, checked her work three times to make sure it was right before handing it in three days late. She still had to explain _why _to her foster parents_._

So Adora worked harder, got her perfect 4.0 first in middle school when it didn’t count, and then high school when it did. Worked harder than anyone on her hockey team, trained hard in the offseason, was captain her sophomore year and then the two years after, got a hockey scholarship to college. And it didn’t matter, none of it mattered, because despite the fact that she was the golden girl that all the teachers raved about, and all the people in her grade seemed to like her, she was still lonely.

Because the girl that they all loved was Adora, sure, but she was the polished, perfect Adora that Adora herself worked so hard to present to them. And she wasn’t real. And so, therefore, their adoration wasn’t either, not really.

And so when she went to college, she promised herself that _this_ time, this time she didn’t need to be the golden girl. She could just be…Adora.

Except.

Except she was so used to it, used to showing everyone what they wanted to see, that it was almost automatic by then.

Everyone had eaten it up, just like in high school. Well, everyone except Catra. She couldn’t hide from Catra. Catra frowned when Adora said she’d be staying on campus her first winter break, and hadn’t just assumed she didn’t get along with her family like some of her teammates had. Catra noticed that Adora never talked about her family, and she’d cared enough to drag answers out of Adora over the course of their first semester.

And then she’d invited Adora into her own family like it was nothing, and it hadn’t been nothing to Adora, and it had been scary and thrilling and Adora had constructed very careful boundaries around it so that she could let herself want it.

Glimmer’s words echo in her head. _Be honest with yourself._ And then Adora thinks about the two of them, Bow and Glimmer, their care, the way they’ve been pulling her outside of her performance all winter. She would _never_ have done something like waking up her friends at five in the morning to actually _tell them_ about her love life. She never even did that with Catra. Well, probably that’s because she never had a love life to talk about with Catra, because Catra kind of was her love life. But that’s not here or there.

Catra was the first person Adora opened up for. For a long, long time, the only person. But she’s not anymore. There is Bow, and Glimmer to start. And then there are…so many other people here at this station that Adora feels in her bones could be the same.

What can Adora possibly say to her that will make up for her behavior? She has no idea. But she has to start somewhere.

“Did you know that I never had a best friend before you?”

Catra looks at her quickly, eyebrows drawing together for just a second before smoothing out into a neutral expression. “Huh?”

Adora can’t look at her. It’s too much. So she looks at the computer across the aisle from Catra. “I never had a best friend before you. And then suddenly I had one. And it was the best thing ever, everything I always dreamed about. Like in the books.”

Adora swallows. “I haven’t had a lot of practice building really strong friendships. And the only one I managed…I ruined it.”

Catra frowns at that. “Okay I don’t know whatever thing you’re doing here but I thought we were past that whole thing. I thought that was—“ And Catra’s voice breaks the tiniest bit. “That was months ago.”

Adora lets out a breath. “Turns out,” she says lowly, “knowing it and _feeling_ it are—are different things.”

And then she doesn’t know what to say after that. She can’t exactly follow that whole thing up by, _and I’m in love with you and freaking out about it because the thought of losing you terrifies me and I’d rather be friends than risk something happening only now I ruined it and you probably hate me again. _She certainly wouldn’t want to hear a confession of love like that.

After Adora is silent for a solid minute, Catra looks at her incredulously. “Is that it? You’re bad at making friends and had a sad childhood so you—you fucking _avoided _me for a _week and a half _after the ski hut? I thought we—I thought _you_—do you know what I thought? I thought the sex was bad. I thought you decided that I wasn’t worth your time. I thought you’d have the goddamn decency to tell me what the hell happened, but I guess I was wrong.”

Adora shrinks at Catra’s words. “I—I didn’t know what to say—”

Catra crosses her arms and swivels to face Adora, eyes flashing. “Well guess what, _now’s when you fucking explain yourself, Adora._ And can I be frank? You’re not doing so great right now. We wouldn’t even be having this conversation if we weren’t fucking stuck here. You would have left at lunch. You _would _have.”

“You don’t know what I would have done,” Adora says hotly.

Catra rolls her eyes and makes a disgusted noise. “No, _you_ don’t know what you would have done. And that means you don’t know if it would have been _worth it._”

Adora hears what Catra isn’t saying, which is, _you don’t know if I would have been worth it._ And it’s so far from the truth that it makes Adora want to scream. She’s in _love_ with Catra and everything she says just makes things worse, and convinces Catra even more that she doesn’t care about her.

“We can’t keep doing this!” Adora bursts out.

Catra glares at her. “Doing what? You avoiding me and me being avoided?”

Adora hears the hurt in her voice and flinches, but she resolutely looks Catra in the eyes, finally. She says in a low and unsteady voice, “Hooking up.”

Catra scowls. “Why the fuck not? Well,” she adds, “Other than never being in the same room or talking. Before, obviously.”

Adora groans, and she’s not good with words, she’s never been good with words and they just start spilling out of her. “We just. Do you even want to anymore? You don’t, right? Probably not. Because I’ve been ignoring you and it was after we had sex and that’s like, so shitty, and I wouldn’t either, if I were you, probably, because I mean, after this who would, and I mean I—“

“_Adora!_” Catra says loudly, “Just be quiet for one minute!”

Catra stands up, and pinches the bridge of her nose. “How did you get from the loneliness thing and the friendship thing to this?”

“I—I—“ And Adora can’t say it.

She fumbles for the door handle at her back and twists it, and backs out of the room. “I need some water,” she mutters, because anything more and she’ll cry, right before the door swings shut.

Catra doesn’t follow her out, which is a relief. Adora drinks a glass of water, sets it down in the sink and then stands there staring at the drain, hands gripping the edge of the counter tightly.

She can do this. She needs to do this, _needs_ to mend things. Catra means the world to her, and she went about this so wrong. For a minute she curses that Glimmer and Bow didn’t manage to dissuade her from her stupid, idiotic plan. But she’s well aware that she’s as stubborn as they come. They _did_ try. She just didn’t listen.

Adora splashes some water on her face. It’s just above freezing, and knocks the breath out of her. What can she even begin to say? There’s no magic formula here. No exam at the end, no speed trials, no “most apologies given” trophy. There’s just her and her own goddamn issues and Catra in the next room hurting because of it.

She steels herself, and marches back into the computer lab.

Catra is looking at her phone, hunched over in her chair where she’d been a couple minutes earlier. She looks up when Adora enters, eyes red but dry.

Adora stands in the center of the room, hands twisted together in front of her.

“So, uh, I’m just gonna start over,” Adora begins, “because I kind of messed up before. And this isn’t an excuse. I’ve been…I shouldn’t have avoided you for so long. Or at all. Or made all those excuses not to hang out. I didn’t know how...how to say that I couldn’t keep doing things like how we were.”

“I’m, uh,” she glances to the side, brain cataloguing the dimly glowing computers, the papers and binders on the desks, “I’m bad with talking about. Um. Feelings. I started avoiding you because…” she closes her eyes. “Because I really, _really_ value your friendship and I never want to lose it again and well…I really liked what we were doing. More, uh, more than I should have. So I just thought maybe if we took, like, if we took a break from…doing that, that I’d sort that out and then we could just go back to being friends again.”

Catra is watching her with an unreadable expression.

“Only, uh, I didn’t tell you any of that and instead just…did it. And then I didn’t know what to tell you. And I realize now that that was, um, a bad call. And I’m really sorry. I wasn’t considerate of you…at _all_.”

Adora squeezes her fingers tighter together as she waits for Catra to respond.

After an eternity, Catra lets out a long, slow breath. “Okay. Yeah, that was like…an insanely terrible call.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t let me have a say in anything. You didn’t give me the autonomy to talk out whatever,” Catra makes a vague sort of gesture at Adora, “this whole thing is really about. Which you haven’t really said yet.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Adora says hoarsely.

“I’m still mad at you,” Catra says.

Adora nods resignedly. “You have every right to be.”

“Avoiding someone out of the blue and blowing them off a—a _lot _of times in a row—because you want to keep being friends with them is stupid. It makes no sense.”

“Yeah,” Adora says miserably.

“I’m gonna need to think about this,” Catra says, and stands up. She heads past Adora, and Adora turns to watch her go. Right before she gets to the door she stops and half-glances back. “Can you go back to the whole feelings bit…”

Adora freezes like a deer in the headlights.

Catra sees it. “…maybe later. I’m going downstairs. Don’t follow me.”

She pushes open the door and disappears into the other room. A moment later, Adora can hear her boots hitting the metal stairs down to the first floor.

Adora stumbles over to a chair, sits down heavily, and drops her head into her hands. At least Catra listened. Now…well, now she awaits her fate.

But she can’t stay still for long. The adrenaline is still pumping in her veins. So she heads out into the other room and finds the emergency supply checklist. She’s just getting to the second page when she gets a text.

It’s from Glimmer. _I just saw my mom going to Shadow Weaver’s office. Idk if it’s about you guys but…it’s probably about you._

Fuck. Adora texts back, _Are you sure??_

_P sure. Bow talked with Scorpia, Weaver is like…uber pissed off about something._

Adora calls Glimmer.

_“Hey,”_ Glimmer says.

“Um. Sorry I kind of yelled at you earlier.” Adora starts with that.

_“Sorry we accidentally trapped you two in the ICL. Well, I’m not sorry about the plan but I am sorry you’re trapped. The weather report doesn’t show it calming down in the next couple days.”_

“It’s…well, thanks, maybe. For not letting me ruin everything. If it’s not ruined.”

_“So…did you talk yet?” _Glimmer sounds hopeful.

Adora sighs. “I guess. Kind of. Um.” She pauses. “I don’t know if I can fully explain without telling her about…you know, the whole,” her voice drops to a whisper, “_being in love with her_ _thing. _And it seems really shitty to stick that in the middle of apologizing for yanking her around. And she can tell that I’m not saying everything there is to say but I just—I _can’t, _Glimmer.”

Glimmer makes a noise of agreement. _“Yeah, but I dunno…you realize you have to at some point right? She, well, she kind of deserves to know the full story. And she also deserves to know how you feel about her. Even if you might not like what she has to say. She’s a person too, she deserves to choose.”_

Adora does know. It’s exactly what Catra just said to her, put another way. It doesn’t mean it’s any easier actually saying it. “I’m…I’m just taking it one thing at a time.”

_“Okay. Well, just keep us posted, okay? I just want you to be happy.” _Glimmer pauses. _“We miss you already.”_

Adora laughs a little. “I just saw you and Bow this morning, you can’t miss me yet.”

_“Yeah, well, now we won’t see you for days! I’m preemptively missing you!”_

“Miss you too, Glimmer,” Adora mumbles into the phone. “And, uh…thanks for being friends with me. Both of you. For like…making the Best Friends Squad a thing.”

It’s a fraction of what she wants to say. She _wants_ to say that the forced proximity, or her sense that she’s been sabotaging herself again and she’s trying to _not_ do that, aren’t really the things that are propelling her forward, the things convincing her she can actually do the thing she wants more than anything, that she can fix things with Catra.

The thing that’s giving her the courage to actually talk to Catra is the knowledge that she’s not alone anymore. Even if things end in flames, as there seems to be a perpetual ten percent chance of happening, she’ll still have Bow and Glimmer. They have her _back_. And she can’t put into words how meaningful that is to her.

_“I’ve kinda always wanted to have a squad,” _Glimmer says a little sheepishly. _“I know I always roll my eyes when Bow says it, but…I’m glad too. Just stay safe out there. I don’t want my best friend turning into an icicle.”_

Adora snorts. “I’ll try my best. It’s pretty crazy out there, but luckily it looks like the emergency supplies are all in order.”

She can hear Glimmer’s teasing smile._“Of course you’re already doing an inventory. I’ll keep you posted on any further developments with my mom and Weaver.”_

Adora’s stomach twists. “Yeah, please do. But seriously, what are they going to do? We work here!”

Glimmer sounds bitter when she says, _“They’ll think of something. One of them always does. Honestly I don’t remember the last time I saw them actually talk, so you guys are like…a big deal kind of. The rumor mill is churning like crazy.”_

“Ugh,” Adora says. “How long has this whole thing been going on for, anyway?”

Glimmer groans. _“A long time. Like…okay I’m twenty-six, and I came to the station for the first time right after college, so this is my fourth winter. And it’s been going since then, for sure. My dad thinks it’s ridiculous, but Mom won’t listen.”_

Glimmer doesn’t really talk about her dad very much, but Adora knows he’s a Math professor back home, and that in the summers Angella spends part of the time doing her managing remotely back in the states.

“How long has your mom been a station manager, anyway?”

_“Like ten years or something. I was in high school.”_

“What about Shadow Weaver?”

_“Actually, fun fact, they started at the same time.”_

“This has been going on for ten years!?” Adora exclaims.

_“Pretty much. It wasn’t always this bad but they keep escalating things. Well, honestly, Shadow Weaver will do one shitty thing and then my mom will do a reactionary thing to “protect” us that also makes people miserable, and then Shadow Weaver does something else…everything just piles up.”_

Adora lets out a breath. “Fuck. That’s fucked up.”

_“Yep…Anyway I better finish this sample for Bow. Talk to you after dinner maybe?”_

“That would be nice,” Adora says, “Bye Glimmer.”

She hangs up.

Catra is still downstairs. So Adora starts organizing the dish cupboards. When she’s done, she moves on to the couch area, which has, in addition to the couch, a lot of bins full of spare equipment, boxes full of technical manuals and back issues of _Astronomy _and _National Geographic_, and weirdly, a box of Legos.

Half an hour later, everything is neatly organized and stacked against one wall, and Adora has pulled out a few magazines that looked interesting. She sits down and starts to read one.

It’s about the Murchison Widefield Array, which is a radio telescope in Australia, and some kind of instrumentation issue they had. And the more she reads, the more she gets the feeling that this…actually sounds almost exactly like what they’ve been having trouble with. Weird residuals, nodes to collapse all the data from clusters of sensors, differing cable lengths…

She finishes the article, then folds the magazine open to that page and sets it aside.

She almost texts Catra, and then she remembers she isn’t texting Catra, and then she remembers that it doesn’t matter and that she shouldn’t have stopped texting Catra in the first place and probably doesn’t need to when the maximum distance Catra could even be is less than a hundred feet. And then there are footsteps on the stairs, and Catra herself appears from the first floor.

Catra glances at the (much more spacious) room, and the organized bins and boxes against one wall. She raises one eyebrow. “Busy much?”

Adora forces an awkward laugh. “Ever heard of stress cleaning?”

The corner of Catra’s mouth quirks into a small, crooked smile, and Adora thinks maybe everything will not be terrible forever. “I’m more of a stress baker myself.”

Catra comes over to the couch and perches on one armrest, feet on the cushion. She wraps her arms loosely around her knees. Her eyes dart to the storage containers, and then to a poster, to a weird stain on the floor, and finally land on Adora. “So.”

The word hangs in the air between them for a moment.

Catra wrinkles her nose. “I’m just gonna say some stuff and you tell me if it’s correct.”

Adora bites her lip and nods. “Okay.”

“You freaked out after the ski hut.” Catra squints at her. “I could kinda tell, in the vehicle bay, that something was off.”

Adora tries to fight down her blush. “…yeah.”

“Okay. So you freaked out, and, uh, decided that you don’t want to keep hooking up. Because…you don’t want to…stop being friends?”

Adora presses her lips together, but she nods.

Catra lets out a long, slow breath. “I’m just going to set aside the fact that that doesn’t follow. You obviously know this, and you are going to explain in more detail at a later date. So you were worried that it would change things. Change the friendship part. Maybe…lose? Lose it? And so what, you got extreme cold feet and decided the best course of action was to work at the station and turn down all my suggestions and generally make my life miserable?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s. That’s basically it,” Adora mumbles when Catra doesn’t go on. “I, uh, I wasn’t thinking about it from uh. From your perspective. At the time. Sorry.”

Catra presses her lips together. “Obviously.”

Adora stares at Catra’s hands, clasped in front of her knees. They look pretty much the same as they always have. “…What did you…conclude?”

Catra nods sharply. “Okay. First of all, don’t ever do something like that again.”

Adora jerks to look Catra in the eye. “I won’t. I promise.”

Catra holds her gaze for a long moment. Then she says, “Second, I didn’t _decide_ anything except to give you a second chance to…redeem yourself. Because I, unlike you, think it’s important to give people choices.”

Adora lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

And then Catra asks, point blank, “So. What do you want, Adora? What do you want for…for us?”

Adora’s eyes widen. “I—I, uh.” She just wants Catra, really, and she doesn’t quite know how to say that. But Catra is waiting. So she goes with, “I don’t know.”

Catra’s face falls slightly, but she nods. “I’m not surprised. We _are_ going to come back to it.”

And Adora nods, noticing now how shaky she feels. But also relieved. “That, uh, that sounds. Reasonable.”

They stare at each other.

Adora can’t help her nervous laugh. “So, maybe we should like, actually figure out how we’re going to be here for the next few days?”

Catra smiles tentatively. “There’s a lot of freeze dried food in our future, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, sorry for the delay in the chapter. Turns out it's hard to maintain a writing schedule with the 'rona and all that. And also, thank you for all the lovely comments on the last chapter, I read and cherish every single one and just didn't quite have the energy to respond to y'all this week. <3
> 
> And finally, FINALLY, they're talking. A bit. More talking to come, because they're now stuck at the ICL for at least a couple days. :D Ya know, really hitting that Quarantine Vibe, ya know? I certainly know I'm feeling it. Thanks for all the support for this story, it really lifts me up. 
> 
> Ok enough sappiness! On another note, @jem-jarrett made [this super cool fanart of Catra](https://jem-jarrett.tumblr.com/post/615336237923024896/next-up-is-relativelystellarlyinclineds-catra) which I love...SO much, go check it out!


	23. Carry me slowly

### Adora

The ICL landline is ringing. Catra gives her a confused look and Adora hurries over to the landline phone on the wall by the door. She hadn’t previously known there _was_ a phone in here, but it makes sense that there is one for emergencies. And they are currently very much in an emergency.

“Hello?”

_“Hello Adora,” _comes Angella’s voice over the phone, and Adora’s stomach drops. _“I’m sorry you’ve found yourself in such a sticky situation.”_

“…Hi Angella. Yeah it’s, uh, not ideal.” Like usual, Adora has to resist the urge to finish with, “ma’am”. Angella just has that kind of vibe.

_“First off, I want to make sure you’re okay. How are you doing? What’s the state of the emergency supplies?”_

Adora feels momentary satisfaction. “I inventoried everything, and there look like there are enough supplies for a week. I, uh, hope the storm won’t go on for that long though?” Adora asks, worried. Catra is hovering nearby, clearly listening in.

_“I should hope not, although the weather forecast does show it lasting for a couple days. So you’re stuck there for the time being. I hope that won’t be…overly difficult for you.”_

Adora glances at Catra out of the corner of her eye, and meets Catra’s gaze dead-on. “It, uh, it’ll be fine.”

_“I’m terribly sorry that you’ll have to put up with Catra for a few days, but I don’t see a way around it.”_

Adora grimaces, and Catra rolls her eyes. Adora decides to push back, just a little, the slightest edge creeping into her voice. “You do realize I’ve been working with Catra all winter, right? If I couldn’t stand her presence, we wouldn’t work very well together to do our work.”

That’s just the truth, and it baffles Adora that Angella would speak so badly about someone who, for all she knows, is Adora’s respected colleague. And that’s not even including the possibility that working in proximity would cause them to become, god forbid, _friends_.

Adora never directly engages with Angella’s weirdly snide remarks. She never has, even before she and Catra made up, when they were ignoring each other, because it feels like playing into the game of 3D chess that Angella and Shadow Weaver are playing. And Adora doesn’t want to be a pawn.

_“Yes, of course, and that’s very admirable of you. I will warn you though, I was…forced to discuss you two and your current predicament with Dr. Weaver.” _Angella sounds annoyed about it. _“It’s protocol when any staff member is stranded outside the station. She was quite incensed. Catra will probably be hearing from her shortly.”_

“Uh, okay,” Adora says. Angella hasn’t actually said anything particularly threatening. And yet something about the tone of their conversation gives Adora a sort of vague, unfocused dread that she doesn’t know the source of.

_“I would ask you if there is anything I can do for you, but I’m not sure there’s anything I _can_ do. Please call me if you find yourself in dire straits. Best of luck, Adora.”_

There’s a click on the other end, and Adora moves the phone away from her ear and slowly puts it back on the hook. That was abrupt, and she’s confused as to why Angella even called in the first place. To see about emergency supplies, she supposes.

She turns to Catra, “Guess we’re on our own. Did you, uh, hear that part about Shadow Weaver probably calling later?”

But Catra is sort of squinting at her. “If you couldn’t stand my presence, huh?”

Adora stares at the floor. “It’s not—that’s not why. I think we work well together, actually.”

It’s _kind_ of why, if the way that Adora feels this unbearable yearning between her ribs the longer she’s around Catra means anything, which it does. Adora couldn’t stand her presence because it was too much of what she’s not allowed to want.

Catra just sighs. “Okay Adora.” She bites her lip and says after a moment, “Uh, what was that bit about Shadow Weaver?”

“She’s mad and she’s probably gonna call you?” Adora says reluctantly.

Catra scowls. “And she’ll yell at me and threaten me with excommunication or whatever for,” she uses air quotes, “_letting this happen_, or some other bullshit. Can we cut the phone line or something?”

She probably means it as a joke, but her expression and tone don’t even begin to pull it off, and all Adora can hear is how Catra sounds genuinely scared of fielding a call from Weaver. Adora wonders just how broad the range of infractions worthy of “punishment” are for Dr. Weaver.

She offers a weak smile. “We might need that for emergency communication or something. Unfortunately.”

Catra makes a little sound of disgust and stalks over to the couch. She throws herself down, and then mutters. “It’s not like she calls like a normal—what the fuck…all these magazines…” She sits back up and try to pull the _Astronomy_ issues Adora had been looking at earlier out from under her.

Adora comes over and perches on the armrest. “You should look at that article,” she says, and gestures to the magazine she set aside earlier.

Catra frowns, but picks it up and reads the title. “They don’t usually publish instrumentation articles like this in _Astronomy_.” She glances up at Adora. “I kinda thought we wouldn’t pretend to do work while we’re, uh, trapped here.”

Adora eyes the organized crates. They could be stacked more efficiently. “I wasn’t planning on it either and we don’t have to, but I just though, uh. I was reading that…earlier. And it sounded useful.”

She stares at her boots and curls her toes up inside them.

After a second, Catra says, “…Okay I’ll take a look. But stop hovering, you’re making me nervous.”

Adora lets out a soft _hah_. She’s making _Catra_ nervous? But she is kind of hovering, so she walks over to the door and slips off her standard issue, affectionately-named bunny boots. It’s warm enough in here that she probably can go in her sock feet for a while before she gets cold again.

As if on cue, a powerful gust of wind slams into the lab, making the supports groan and creak, and a shiver goes down Adora’s spine. They’re really stuck here. They’re _really_ stuck here. Death waits just outside the door, if either of them were to go out there for more than a minute, or more than an arm’s reach from the wall.

Which suddenly reminds her. Adora whips out her phone and texts Glimmer, _Is Swiftwind okay!?Who is taking care of him? Can you and Bow?_

It’s actually a really good thing Adora didn’t try to take him out here this morning, since the lab definitely does _not_ have dog-oriented emergency supplies.

When Glimmer doesn’t text back immediately, Adora starts another pot of coffee. She needs to chase out the chill that’s taken up residence in her bones when she thinks about what’s on the other side of these walls.

She’s just pouring herself a cup of coffee when she gets a text from an unfamiliar number. _Hi this is Frosta!! I’m sorry you and Catra are stuck at the ICL, but I’m gonna help Glimmer take care of Swiftwind so don’t worry about him!_

A second text arrives on the heels of the first. _Is that okay with you?_

Adora can’t help smiling at Frosta’s enthusiasm. She’s so different now than Adora’s first impression of her, of an angry, prickly kid. She saves Frosta’s number, then responds, _That would be perfect! He loves getting chin scratches and he’ll play fetch for as long as you’ll put up with it._

She knows she can count on Frosta to give Swiftwind as much attention as he deserves, and combined with Glimmer and Bow taking care of the more logistical side of things, she feels pretty good about that arrangement. It’s a relief to know that at least her dog will be well taken care of while she’s stuck here.

Frosta texts back, _Okay!! Thank you so much!!_

With an ever so slightly lighter heart, Adora comes back to the couch area. She sinks into one hip and sips her coffee standing. “Are you finished reading?”

Catra looks up from the magazine, ballpoint pen in hand. “This was a good find,” she says seriously. “These problems are really similar to ours. We should email the head of this project and ask for more details.”

“Oh that’s a great idea. I uh, I was thinking we could like, reverse engineer it, but that would be…way easier.” Adora flushes. She didn’t have to admit that.

Catra snorts. “You don’t actually have to do everything in the most difficult way possible.”

Adora averts her eyes. “Ha…yeah…”

Catra is clearly not just referring to their project.

Suddenly Catra’s phone starts buzzing. She pulls it out and makes a face. “Shit. It’s Shadow Weaver.”

Adora watches with no small amount of confusion as Catra swipes on…a Snapchat notification?

Catra puts the phone to her ear and stands up. “Hey, Dr. Weaver,” she says in a resigned sort of way. She heads downstairs, but Adora can hear the tone of Shadow Weaver’s voice over the phone, and it’s not anywhere near the polished politeness of Angella.

There’s a pit of worry in Adora’s stomach, but there’s nothing she can do except wait. Her stomach growls, and she suddenly realizes it’s an hour past when they normally have dinner. She heads back to the bin of freeze-dried dinners and rummages around. Then she decides reading the clipboard would be more efficient.

She hesitates when filling up the hot water pot. Is it too presumptuous of her to make Catra dinner too? Is that something she’s allowed to do?

She decides it’s not presumptuous, it’s efficient and considerate, and picks two meals and tears them open, setting them on the counter next to the hot water pot.

Only a couple minutes later, there’s the echoing of footsteps on the metal stairs. Catra’s hair appears first, and then the rest of her, trudging up the last few stairs. She comes over to the kitchenette and heaves herself to sit on the counter. And then she lets out a long exhale and puts her head in her hands.

Adora studies her from the hot water pot. She’s aching to reach out and comfort Catra, but she has no idea if that’s something Catra would even want from her right now. Or possibly ever. After a minute, she says, “Phone call didn’t go well?”

Catra’s shoulders sag. “…Technically it was a snapchat call.”

Adora’s eyebrows go up. “Wait, what? You can call people on snapchat? Why?”

“Shadow Weaver discovered it and ever since she’s been using it for all her communications.”

Adora just sort of gapes at her in incredulity. “_What?_”

Catra groans. “You have no idea, it’s a fucking nightmare. Do you have any idea how terrible to receive _snapchats _from your nightmare-inducing _boss?_”

The corner of Adora’s mouth twitches into a smile. “That’s terrible.” Then she replays Catra’s words in her mind. “Wait, nightmare-inducing?”

Catra lifts her head from her hands. She looks…so much wearier than she did ten minutes ago. “Like the worst version of those dreams where you forget to study and then you have to present something. Except it’s Shadow Weaver telling you off for like, sending your weekly report five minutes late, or _reminding_ you to do something that she definitely never mentioned before, and also just happening to mention that performance reviews are _crucial_ to getting to come back next year, and threatening to cut your funding or send you home if she sees you talking with _the enemy _except that it’s real and you can’t wake up from it, and _then_ you get fucking snapchats from her telling you what she wants you to do.”

Adora’s eyes go wide. “Wait, seriously? Holy…holy shit.”

Catra looks away from her angrily. “I don’t need your _pity_ Adora. It’s the way things are. I don’t have the power to change it.”

Adora scowls. And she should probably be more careful, given that they’ve only _just_ made up, and only slightly. But she can’t stop herself. “That’s _bullshit._”

Catra whips around to glare at her. “What the f—“

Adora cuts her off. “Sorry, but no. You _do_ have power.” She pushes up off the counter and walks the three feet to the wall and turns around. “We all have the power. If we worked _together_. Shadow Weaver—Angella—what could they do if we all decided not to put up with it?” She pounds her fist into her other hand. “They _couldn’t. Do. Anything.”_

Catra says bitingly, “Except not let us come back. Do you know people actually care about their jobs? You’re the only one here who’s here _temporarily_. The rest of us, this is our actual lives.”

Adora chokes on what she was about to say. But—but—but she doesn’t want it to be temporary. She _wants _to come back, next winter, and she didn’t know that until now. So instead of her witty retort, she just says, quieter, “Oh. Sorry. But…” she continues, reluctant to let the issue drop like this, “But how long will it continue? How long before one of the core winter personnel gets _punished_ and never comes back? Do you really want that?”

Catra clenches her jaw. “No. I don’t want that. But you don’t know what you’re asking.”

Adora takes a deep breath, and then she tries to let it go. She turns back to the hot water pot, which is now boiling. “I got out one for you too. Hope it’s something you don’t hate.”

She pours the steaming water into the two packets and zips them closed. The escaping steam scalds her palms, and she wipes the condensation off on her pants.

Catra is still sitting on the counter, hunched over. Her hands clench the edge, and she’s staring at the floor with singular concentration, her hair hiding her face.

“Catra?” Adora asks when she doesn’t respond.

Catra glances up, and her eyes are watery. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” she says, voice smaller. “This position…these people, this work, they mean everything to me. I spent the time between last winter and this one soaking up the sun and wishing I was down here in the dark, as crazy as that sounds.”

“It doesn’t sound crazy,” Adora says slowly. “I just…there’s good things, but wouldn’t you rather not be miserable? Don’t we all deserve that?”

Catra is unreadable. “Yeah. _We_ do.”

They eat dinner quietly. It’s not exactly companionable but at least there’s not the same sense of open animosity there was this morning.

Adora has no idea how to talk to Catra about any of these _feelings_ things. She’s spent so long actively suppressing them, forcing words back down her throat, and now it doesn’t feel like she’s capable of saying them to Catra at all. She wants it to just come up in conversation, except that it never will because if she doesn’t _tell_ Catra, well, there goes this second chance.

But she’s not capable of having another conversation after today. She’s completely emotionally strapped, and there’s no question that she doesn’t have it in her to try today.

Tomorrow. She’ll tell Catra tomorrow.

It’s only after dinner, after reading an old _National Geographic_, and after privately lamenting the fact that there aren’t extra clothes in any of these bins, when Adora is digging through one of the bins that _theoretically _has things like toothbrushes toothpaste and wet wipes in it, that it occurs to her.

“Uh, Catra?” She calls.

“Yeah?” Catra’s voice comes from inside the computer lab.

Adora spots toothbrushes and grabs one along with the travel-size toothpaste, and follows the sound of her voice.

Catra is transferring the notes she made in the article into her notebook, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Hey, uh…” Adora tries to keep the heat from her face, and is not even remotely successful. “Have you thought about, uh, sleeping arrangements?”

A minute later they’re standing side by side in front of the bed that exists for the exact emergency situation they’re in right now.

The single, twin bed.

Adora keeps staring at it and hoping it’ll magically get bigger or perhaps reveal a trundle bed attachment, but it stubbornly insists on continuing to be a standard issue twin bed, crammed into a recess in the hall outside the computer lab.

Catra stands ramrod straight next to her.

Adora has honestly never given this bed much thought. It’s tucked into a nook in this hallway and usually has the emergency supply bins stacked on top of it. Said bins are now sitting on the floor in the other room, and the bed is much more…bedlike.

“Well. Uh, I can take the couch?” Adora squeaks out.

When Catra doesn’t say anything, she glances at her. Catra is frowning at the bed.

After several seconds, Catra turns towards her and raises one eyebrow. “You do realize how stupid that sounds, right?”

Adora knows she’s probably bright red. She grimaces. “…No? It’s, uh, not a very big bed. I’ll take the couch, it’s not a problem.”

“We shared a bed—don’t argue—“ she says when Adora makes a noise of protest, “for four fucking years. I think one night won’t kill us. And you’re grumpy if you don’t sleep well. I don’t want to be stuck here with you if you’re sleep deprived.”

Adora scratches the back of her neck. “Uh, yeah, but. Uh…” But now she’s slept with Catra in an extremely non-platonic sort of way and sure it wasn’t on a _bed_ but she also remembers how they used to go to sleep on opposite sides and wake up curled into each other and she really doesn’t think that those two facts combine into something that she’ll be able to control the outcome of.

But Catra is jutting her jaw out, head tilted up, like she’s getting ready for battle, and Adora can already tell that she’s _not _going to win this one. “

She still tries one more time. “The couch is pretty comfortable, actually. I, uh, I’ll be fine!”

“Don’t try to get all martyr on me. The couch isn’t that big, your legs will be practically hanging off the end of it.” Catra says to the wall.

Adora nods slowly. She’s not sure what angle Catra is going for here, whether this is an olive branch or something else, but she’ll go along with it. “Okay. Uh, if you’re okay with it.” She laughs nervously, “Can’t say the couch would be all that comfortable…”

Catra glances at her out of the corner of her eye. “Okay then.”

They don’t talk about it after that.

Adora brushes her teeth in the kitchen sink.

Catra washes her face in the bathroom.

They swap.

Adora sits on the edge of the bed. Or hovers might be a better word for it. There’s the sound of water running from the kitchen area, where Catra is still brushing her teeth. She frowns at her feet, and after a minute she takes off her socks. She slides her fingers through her hair and tugs it out of its ponytail, then pulls the bobby pins out from her poof. There. That’s the most getting ready she can really do, given the circumstances. She might have taken her bra off, or slept in her underwear, but she can’t really do that and share a bed with Catra, can she? She needs as much of her guard up as possible for this.

She realizes there’s only one pillow, and goes and grabs her red overcoat from the hook by the door. It’s plenty voluminous, certainly enough to make a decent pillow if she folds it right.

Then Adora scoots onto the bed and slips under the covers on the side closest to the wall. She folds the coat and punches it into a good-enough shape, and then she lays on her side facing the wall, as close to the wall as she can manage without plastering herself to it.

She closes her eyes and tries to relax.

She’s as stiff as a board.

She hears Catra’s footsteps coming down the hallway. The lights go off. Catra stops next to the bed, but she doesn’t get in right away. The back of Adora’s neck prickles. Then she feels the bed dip behind her, and Catra oh-so-carefully gets under the sheet and heavy blanket, all without touching Adora at all.

Adora squeezes her eyes tighter, although she’s sure Catra knows she’s not asleep.

Catra says quietly, “Night, Adora.”

The seconds tick by. After a long moment, Adora says, even quieter, “Night.”

She tries to fall asleep. _Try_ being the operative word.

She’s wide awake.

She can feel the heat of Catra’s body on her back, even though Catra can’t be anywhere near her, has undoubtedly put the maximum possible space between their bodies.

She can feel Catra’s _breath _on her _neck_, so faint she’d think she was imagining it, except that she’s hyperaware of everything right now, every point of her own body that could even potentially come into contact with Catra’s.

The blankets tug on Adora’s shoulder as Catra readjusts, and when she settles again, Adora can’t feel that faint exhale anymore.

She breathes shallowly, trying her best to move as little as possible. She has no idea how far away Catra really is, and she feels like if she moves even a fraction of an inch, she’ll touch her on accident.

Her arm is starting to fall asleep, stuck uncomfortably under her, but she can’t move it without completely readjusting.

Catra always goes to sleep curled up almost into a ball, or at least that’s how she had in college. Adora wonders if she still does.

There must be a clock ticking somewhere in the station, which Adora has never noticed, but now she hears it, ticking away, minutes slipping by. Catra’s breathing has evened out, and Adora _thinks_ she’s asleep. Well, at least one of them will get a good night’s sleep.

She idly wonders if this has ever happened before. Have multiple people ever been trapped out here, in the history of the ICL? She wonders what they were like. If it’s possible that they weren’t just colleagues, if maybe they were more. If they _became_ more, stuck out here by themselves, the only living things out here isolated from the safety of the station.

They’re not that far away from the main station, really. But that distance feels ten times greater now, lying in this bed with Catra so close she could touch her. Hearing the lab creak every time a strong gust of wind hits.

Her arm is totally numb up to her bicep now, and she _needs_ to readjust.

Adora slowly, _slowly_ shifts onto her back, trying not to rustle the sheets. Immediately her arm is full of pins and needles, and she clenches her jaw at the fizzy feeling.

To distract herself, she slowly lifts her head off her coat and turns it toward Catra just enough to see that yes, Catra _does_ still sleep curled into a ball. She’s facing away from Adora, her hair splayed out over the pillow behind her.

There’s barely any light, and what little there is comes from the Exit sign over the door, just down the hall. The dim green light traces Catra’s jawline, her cheekbone, the faintest shadow of her eyelashes. It illuminates a lock of her hair that trails from behind her ear to lie along the curve of her neck. Adora has never seen something as beautiful as this.

Adora lets her head fall back onto her folded up coat with a soft _whump_ and squeezes her eyes closed.

This is precisely why she wanted to take the couch.

The day finally catches up with her. The earlier-than-recently morning, following a mostly sleepless night, following that damn sauna, following the exhilaration of the 300 Club. The tension between her and Catra, all day. How she’s felt ready to shake apart since this morning when she walked into the station and realized Catra was already here. The exhaustion is right there on the edge of her mind, ready and waiting to drag her down into dreamless sleep.

Despite that, it takes her a long, long time to fall asleep.

* * *

Adora wakes up slowly, in parts. She first becomes aware of the fact that she’s warm. The wisps of a dream are sliding away from her, and she can’t remember it at all, only that it left her with a calmness that pervades her whole body. Next, that she’s curled on one side, and that she feels safe, comfortable. Held.

And then, that Catra is nestled up behind her, face pressed to her neck, arm draped over her waist, one leg over one of Adora’s.

Fuck.

Adora takes stock. She’s on the inside of the bed, meaning she’ll have to get _over_ Catra to get out of bed. And that’s not even counting the way that Catra’s legs are intertwined with hers, or the way that Catra’s breath is damp on her neck because she’s basically spooning Adora.

She _knew_ this would happen.

Adora tries to slowly move herself away, towards the far wall.

Catra readjusts in her sleep, and shuffles closer until she’s pressed against Adora just as much as before.

Adora lets out a breath. Then she sits up abruptly and climbs over Catra and out of bed before Catra has a chance to wake up properly.

She sits on the edge of the bed and sniffs the socks from yesterday. Not terrible. She pulls them on as Catra groans and pulls the covers over her head.

“Morning,” Adora says, giving brusque a try.

“Morning,” Catra says. Her voice is gravelly with sleep, and it instantly makes Adora think of every morning they woke up together. The way Catra’s sleep-drenched words did things to her (and how she valiantly ignored it). Catra turns her head towards Adora, blinking slowly.

Adora hurriedly gets up and heads to the bathroom before Catra can notice the way Adora’s body heat still clings to the sheets.

She stares at herself in the mirror. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and tousled with sleep. She tries to comb her fingers through it and sweep it back into some semblance of a ponytail. She wishes for a comb as she fishes the bobby pins out of her pants pocket, and feels the indentation in her thigh where they were pressed against her all night.

Adora bites her lip and fiddles with the bobby pins to arrange her hair into a poof. It’s sadly lacking, but that’s the best it’s going to get without a comb, she decides.

She passes by Catra sitting on the bed, sleepily shrugging her vest on and reaching for her socks, to the kitchen area to start the coffee. If she’s going to do this, actually and for real, she wants to be wide-awake for it.

She goes through the motions of making coffee, but really she’s listening to the sounds of Catra getting ready. It’s weird because it’s so familiar. It makes her think about college. All the small good parts that got eclipsed by the enormity of their final semester. Declaring a major together, working out together, falling asleep next to each other. Watching TV and getting ready for parties and doing homework until late at night in the library.

Catra comes stumbling in a few minutes later, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, of course, but instead of her normal headband, she’s using the headband as a scrunchie to tie her hair into a bun on top of her head.

Adora feels so damn _fond_ of her she doesn’t know what to say. She turns away and pours two mugs of coffee, and adds the creamer and sugar, then picks them both up.

“So, uh, lets…do you want some coffee?”

Catra looks at the mug in Adora’s hand. Her eyes flick to meet Adora’s for a second.

Her fingers curl around the mug and she takes it out of Adora’s hand. “Okay.”

Adora walks slowly past the couch and sits on the top stair of the staircase, coffee cradled in her hands.

Catra follows her, and sits down next to her. The stairs aren’t very wide, and Adora’s whole upper arm is pressed to Catra’s. Adora takes a sip of coffee and closes her eyes. Her heart is pounding in her ears.

“Remember when everyone started acting like we were dating?”

Catra laughs a little. “Yeah, and started trying to _help?”_

“Um. Yeah.” Adora takes another sip. “Remember when we had that conversation in Swiftwind’s kennel?”

Adora sees Catra glance at her in her peripheral vision, but she keeps staring fixedly at a poster taped to the wall above the stairs. Catra says, slower, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Did you ever…ever wish it was true? That we…_were_ actually dating? Don’t—“ she says quickly before Catra can speak, “—answer that right now.”

Catra seems to get that if she says something, it’ll probably derail Adora completely, which Adora is pathetically grateful for.

She just keeps staring at that poster. It’s of an iceberg. “I know we agreed we weren’t. But, uh…I kinda wished we…were. And we never talked about if we _should_ date. If you would want to. Only, uh, only whether we _were._ Which I know we weren’t.” She hates the fact that she’s using the past tense. But she doesn’t think she gets to use anything else.

Adora takes another drink. She feels Catra’s eyes on her, but she can’t look at her right now. Just focus on the iceberg. She laughs ruefully, “And uh, well, I think you probably know that I’m not good with feelings.”

Catra lets out a little huff of air, but doesn’t comment.

“But I…I wanted to. I really, really wanted to.” Her eyes are watering, dammit. Adora blinks rapidly. “And then, uh, it never came up, after that. And I couldn’t _bring_ it up.”

“You could have,” Catra says quietly.

Adora squeezes her eyes shut, and feels a tear slide down her cheek. “I really couldn’t. You mean so _much_…” she takes a deep breath. “And then we went out to watch the Aurora. And I let myself think of it…almost as a date. Like it could have been one, if that had been what we were. I couldn’t help it.”

She just keeps looking at that poster. There are little labels around the iceberg, but she’s too far away to read them. “I don’t think I’ve been that happy in a long time.”

Catra says, “Then why didn’t you _say—“_

“Can you just let me finish?” Adora says, somewhat desperately, “This is—_really _hard.”

Catra sets her empty mug down on the step below their feet. “Okay. Sorry.”

“_Ha…_” Adora breathes, “You don’t have…_anything_ to be sorry for. I’m the one who—I’m the disaster, not you.”

She takes another sip of coffee in an attempt to swallow the way she wants to cry right now. How could she have been stupid enough to fuck it all up so badly?

“And then in the hanger…I just. I realized.” She takes a deep breath. She might as well burn everything down in one go. “I realized that I’m in love with you. And I have been for longer than I know.”

Catra inhales sharply, but Adora presses on. “But we weren’t—_aren’t_ like that, and I know that, and I’m so sorry, Catra—“ Now she really is crying, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping off her chin, and she takes a gasping breath. “I’m _so sorry_ that I ignored you and avoided you and it’s because I couldn’t be happy with what we had, not when I feel like this, and I thought maybe I could just _stop_—if I didn’t have to see you, that—that I’d get over it—I could get over it, and we could just keep being friends—“

She inhales and her voice breaks when she says, “Because I can’t—I’m not over it and I don’t know how to be and I think I’ve—I think I’ve never been over you at all, and I don’t want to lose you again, not again, and being friends is better than if you _hated_ me for telling you, if that meant that we couldn’t keep being friends and—and I fucked everything up, and you didn’t deserve it, and I just—” Adora breaks off in a sob and angrily wipes her eyes. She’s vaguely aware that she’s on the edge of a panic attack.

“Sorry, _sorry_, you—you deserve to know why and if you don’t want to—“ she takes a dragging breath, “if you don’t want to be friends anymore, I understand, I do. But I just—I can’t keep doing that, making out in cargo bays and sneaking off to watch the Aurora or _any _of it when I wanted—_want_ more—and if you don’t that’s on _me_, not you, because I’m—I’m the one who couldn’t keep it together and just _go along_ with it—and get these stupid feelings and mess everything up—“

She breaks off, and then finds she can’t continue, that all she is currently capable of doing is staring at that poster and taking huge, gasping breaths every time she runs out of oxygen.

Her peripheral vision is gone, lost in the tightness in her chest and the beat of her heart and the ocean in her ears. She whispers, “_I’m just so sorry, Catra.”_

It might be a second later, or a minute or a thousand years, that Adora feels Catra’s fingers gently uncurling her clenched hand, and lacing their fingers together. Catra squeezes lightly, and says hoarsely, “You’re really bad at saying how you feel, huh?”

Adora lets out a choked-up laugh, which turns into a sob, and suddenly the sound is back, and she doubles over onto her knees and lets herself cry.

There’s pressure on her shoulder, and she thinks maybe Catra has her forehead pressed to Adora’s shoulder blade. Catra says quietly, “I don’t want to stop being friends, and—“

Adora shudders with a fresh wave of emotion. That’s all she really wanted, all she hoped for, and her overwhelming relief is a wave washing ashore and putting the fire out, leaving her shaky, and alive.

But Catra is still speaking, “—and also you’re so, _so_ stupid because I’m in love with _you.” _Catra presses her forehead harder into Adora, and her grip on Adora’s hand tightens almost painfully. “_God_ Adora, I tried so hard not to be and I completely failed.”

Adora lifts her tearstained face off her knees and sits back up. “What? You’re—what?“

Catra wipes her eyes with the back of one hand, the one that’s not currently holding Adora’s. She looks at Adora with red-rimmed eyes, and a weak smile, “…Uh, yeah. I kind of am.”

Adora sniffs. “So you thought—“

Catra blows out a breath. “I wouldn’t have said anything. If that’s what you’re wondering. I was gonna—“ she breaks off, then clears her throat. “I told Scorpia that I’d take…as much of you as you’d give me. I couldn’t even—I couldn’t even begin to try to stop seeing you. So when you—I just—“

Adora shifts to half-face Catra and gently grabs her other hand and laces their fingers together. She tilts her head until her forehead presses against Catra’s own forehead, and closes her eyes.

She says softly, “Can we maybe try this again? If you don’t want to—“

“I want to,” Catra whispers, and Adora can feel her breath on her lips.

She inhales. “Okay. _Okay._”

And then Catra is untangling their fingers and tilting her head and her lips are brushing Adora’s as softly as butterfly wings before she breathes, “Is this too much?”

Adora answers by bringing their lips back together, and disentangling their fingers so she can slide one hand to the back of Catra’s neck and draw her closer.

She’s maybe still crying. Catra maybe is too. Maybe it’s okay. Maybe it’ll _be_ okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help, I'm tender and I can't get up.
> 
> In other news, it's Tuesday! I might not be as regular with the exact day as I have been in the past, but I am still planning on 1 chapter a week! Never fear :) And I COULD have published on Sunday but it would have been 2000 words shorter and the last part is the GOOD part so I think it was worth a delay :)
> 
> Hooray! Finally these two dumbasses actually said the words! After many trials and tribulations! ':D Also surprise! One of my favorite tropes because this baby can fit so many tropes in it! Hope y'all liked it. I once again didn't get around to all your wonderful comments but I WILL and I read all of them. See u next week!


	24. Your love is sunlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this does get a lil steamy at some parts btw!

### Adora

It turns out Adora is finding it next to impossible to stop _touching_ Catra. And Catra, apparently, feels similarly because when after a while, Adora stands up on the stairs, Catra’s fingers tighten on hers instead of letting go. Adora pauses and looks down at Catra, who is staring at their clasped hands like she’s never seen them before.

“Do you know how much I’ve wanted to hold your hand?” Catra says almost reluctantly, like she’s dragging the words out of some deep part of her.

Adora closes her eyes. She feels raw, rubbed clean, and she’s sure she looks like a mess. “Do you know how hard it’s been not to?” She says in response, and tugs at Catra’s hand in hers until Catra stands up.

Adora squats to grab their two now-empty coffee mugs, and then she leads the way to the kitchen.

Adora sets the mugs in the sink, and her eyes dart over to Catra’s. “Uh, I should…wash these? And we should have breakfast, probably.” Lunch is closer by now, actually, and Adora’s stomach is growling.

Catra nods, and she slowly lets go, only to immediately slide behind Adora, wrap her arms loosely around Adora’s waist and press her face between Adora’s shoulder blades. “There, now you have your hands free,” she mumbles, muffled.

Adora can’t help smiling as she occupies herself with washing the mugs and filling up the hot water pot. “Want to grab some breakfast-type meals?” She asks, even though the prospect of Catra being more than a few inches away makes her stomach clench.

Catra grumbles about it, and then detaches herself from Adora for less than thirty seconds to rummage around one of the bins, snatch packets of oatmeal, and throw them on the counter, before she’s hopping on the counter and catching her fingers in the collar of Adora’s shirt and pulling her close. Adora goes willingly, and settles herself between Catra’s legs.

Adora watches herself run her hands over Catra’s thighs, until Catra lifts her chin with a finger to meet her gaze. Adora just smiles at Catra in what she’s positive is an extremely dopey sort of way. “I love you,” she says softly, just to see how it feels in her mouth without tears, to see how it hits Catra when she can see her face. It feels solid, grounding, irrefutably true.

Catra’s eyes are shining and she slides her hand along Adora’s jawline, thumb brushing her cheekbone. Adora can’t help the way she presses into it. “I love you,” Catra whispers, and now Adora can see that there are more tears forming, and she can’t have that, because she’s doesn’t want to make Catra cry ever again. So she turns her face further to press a kiss to the inside of Catra’s wrist.

Catra’s eyes drift shut, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath. “God, what you _do_ to me, Adora,” she says, low and intense.

Adora slides her fingers between Catra’s and gently pulls Catra’s hand away from her cheek, so she can kiss along her inner forearm to her elbow, at which point Catra has apparently had enough, because she redirects Adora’s mouth to her own, and locks her ankles behind Adora’s waist so she can’t escape.

Adora endeavors to kiss any lingering tears away. She’s ready to try something new, where she doesn’t feel like her heart is breaking whenever Catra is involved.

She only pulls away because she realizes that the hot water pot is merrily boiling away, and their oatmeal is still in packets, and she really _is_ hungry.

Adora clears her throat. “Breakfast?”

* * *

“What are we supposed to do, anyway?” Adora asks.

They’re sitting on the bed. Well, to be more accurate, Catra is sitting on the bed with her back against the wall. Adora is lying with her head in her lap, reading _National Geographic_. Catra is texting Scorpia.

Catra looks down at her contemplatively. “I dunno, read? Work?” She cocks her eyebrow and smirks, “Other things?”

Adora blushes and bites her lip. “I thought the lab was kinda off-limits…” Although, to be fair, they kind of broke that rule this morning. But also, this thing between them is hours-old, and she doesn’t know whether Catra wants to pick up where they left off, or start from scratch. Adora is fine with whatever she wants to do, she just doesn’t _know._

And then she reminds herself that maybe not talking about this kind of thing is what caused everything in the first place, and so she sets down the magazine and looks up at Catra. “Uh, do you—do you want to take our time? Or, um.” She feels her face flushing, “sort of pick up where we left off? With, uh, physical stuff. I’m…I’m good with whatever you, uh, whatever you want.”

Catra grins and narrows her eyes at Adora. She trails her fingertips down the side of Adora’s neck torturously slowly. Adora inhales, and has to fight to keep her eyes on Catra’s face. “Whatever you want, princess,” Catra purrs, and _wow_ does that do it for Adora.

Adora can’t help the breathiness in her voice. “Maybe we should—maybe we should put a pause on that hands-off in the ICL rule…” She trails off.

Catra grins. “If you were gonna keep up with that rule you shouldn’t have kissed me earlier.”

Adora bites her lip and wraps her fingers around the palm of Catra’s hand, which is still on her neck, almost to her shoulder, and she keeps holding it when she kisses the bone at the base of Catra’s thumb. “Guess I shouldn’t have,” she murmurs.

She can feel the way Catra shivers. Catra says roughly, “I think we can pause on that rule.”

Adora looks up at her through her eyelashes. “Sounds perfect.” She sits up, and folds over the corner of the magazine before gently tossing it on the floor.

Catra snorts, behind her. “Is that any way to treat the venerable Nat-Geo?”

Adora turns around on her hands and knees and crawls over to Catra. She brackets Catra’s hips with her hands, and looks at Catra’s lips with hooded eyes. “They’re our damn magazines,” she murmurs, “I’ll do what I want with them.”

She see’s Catra’s throat work as she swallows, sees her lips part gently.

“In that case,” Adora says lowly, “Why don’t we pick up where we left off?”

Catra responds by crushing her lips to Adora’s in a kiss that makes her brain kind of melt. It’s openmouthed and artless and Adora just wants _more_, and Catra’s hands are everywhere, first on the backs of her arms pulling her in, and then on her hips when Adora readjusts to straddle her thighs, and then sliding under the back of her shirt.

And Adora draws back a little and forces Catra to reach up to kiss her, which makes Catra make this little growl in the back of her throat and practically yank Adora down with her fists in Adora’s shirt. “_Tease_,” Catra says raspily, and then Adora is disoriented for a moment as Catra flips them so now Adora is on her back, the wind knocked out of her, and Catra is on top of her, kissing down the line of her throat.

Adora arches her neck to give Catra better access, and she can’t help the sounds she’s making because of it. When Catra makes a little frustrated noise at the way Adora’s shirt is getting in the way of her access to Adora’s collarbone, Adora pushes to sit up. “Let’s just—“ she mutters and tugs it over her head. Catra does the same, sitting back on her heels on Adora’s thighs, and Adora _looks_, because she is actually, for once, really really allowed to.

Catra catches her eye, a smirk playing around the corner of her mouth. “I saw you looking, in the sauna,” she says.

Adora swallows. “I tried not to. You’re beautiful, you know?”

Catra flushes, and then her gaze drops below Adora’s collarbone.

So while she’s at it, Adora takes off her bra too, and as soon as it’s off Catra is on her again, mouth insistent and hungry and hands all over the place.

It shouldn’t be possible to want someone this much, in such an all-encompassing way. To want her physically, yes, but also emotionally. To want to take Catra and fit her inside her own ribcage, to merge them together into one being so she never has to be apart from her. They’re tangled together in an intoxicating slide of skin on skin, and Adora just wants more.

_“I love you,” _Adora whispers into Catra’s mouth, into her hair, into her hipbone, and Catra just gasps and moves against her and it’s better, this time, somehow, despite the fact that they’re on a narrow twin cot crammed into a hallway in the middle of a blizzard, despite the howling wind and the darkness and the cold.

The way that Catra pulls Adora’s body into the curve of her own, after, is better. The way she kisses the back of her neck and gently runs her teeth over the bump of Adora’s spine is better. The way she whispers, _“I love you too, you idiot,”_ and can’t seem to stop pressing kisses to Adora’s shoulder blade, her shoulder, behind her jaw, is better.

The way Adora finally turns back to her and Catra is smiling and that look in her eyes that Adora has been trying to identify for months is there, only this time Adora knows that it’s _love_, is better.

The way their bodies seem to fit together is better.

Adora wonders if this is how it’s supposed to work, when it _works_. If you can’t see a higher peak of happiness until you’re at the top of one. If she had to go out to that ski hut with Catra, have sex with her and press her forehead to Catra’s to realize she wanted something that she couldn’t have. To be able to see above the clouds to that higher pinnacle, if she was only able to take her eyes off the ground for one second and stop thinking about how far she had to fall. If that’s what it took to realize that it was possible to be really, really happy, if she tried.

If she only had to keep her eyes raised upward, so that when she took a flying leap, instead of falling she’d _fly._

Catra murmurs into the space between their two curled bodies, “This is…so much better.”

Adora shakes herself out of her reverie. It’s so in line with what she’s thinking that she squirms around to face Catra and props her head up on one hand. She can’t stop smiling. “Yeah,” she says, “Who knew confessing would make sex so much better?”

Catra laughs. “You’re such an idiot, you know that right?”

Adora wrinkles her nose and grins. “Careful who you call an idiot, I’m sure I’ve accumulated plenty of brain damage over the last fifteen years of hockey.”

Catra pokes Adora in the stomach. “Oh I _know _you have. Freshman Adora was _way_ smarter than twenty-seven year old Adora.”

Adora raises her eyebrow. “How so?”

“Well, she was my best friend. Obviously that was a very intelligent decision.”

Adora half laughs, half groans. “Pretty sure we got randomly assigned as roommates.”

“Nah,” Catra says, and she changes from poking Adora’s stomach, to smoothing her hand over her skin and tugging gently at her hip, drawing her closer. “I’m pretty sure it was like, destiny.”

“Think so?” Adora asks, scooting closer.

Catra looks thoughtful for a moment, doesn’t answer right away. “You know, actually no. I don’t think so. I’d rather think it was just…us. That there were a million paths we could have taken.”

Adora grimaces. “This one was kinda long. And, uh, torturous. A little bit.”

Catra nods. “Maybe. But hey, we’re here now, right?”

Adora watches her hand run along the bare skin of Catra’s hip, up to her waist. “I don’t totally believe it, yet.”

“Hey,” Catra says, and Adora glances up to meet her eyes. Catra’s mismatched eyes hold her gaze steadily. “We’re going to be okay, okay? You’re forgiven. _I forgive you_.”

Adora lets out a breath. “I can’t forget what I did.”

Catra nods, never breaking her gaze. “I can’t either. But I want this…I want it to be a beginning. Let’s be something _new_, let’s just…start. We have to, somewhere, right?”

“Yeah,” Adora says. “That sounds good.”

* * *

“I was serious before,” Adora tells Catra as they’re eating dinner. They’re sitting right next to each other, rather than at opposite ends of the couch, and that Catra has one leg tucked under her, her body nestled into the corner of the couch. Adora is doing her best to resist the urge to get as close as possible to her because it would make eating a little difficult.

Catra quirks an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About station management. About Angella, and Dr. Weaver. And also about…about it feeling like home, here. I think I want to come back.”

Catra studies her for a long moment. “Anyone who says that is exactly who belongs here.” Adora wonders if she just passed some kind of test she didn’t know about. Catra pauses, then says, “We can’t do it on our own. Both of us would be out of here on the first plane, with almost no chance of ever coming back.”

Adora nods, chest tightening. “I know. I think…I think we have allies though. _Nobody_ likes how things are working right now. Not even, uh, people who aren’t in love with their forbidden lab partners.”

Catra snorts. “So eloquent.” She takes a bite of her meal, and seems to mull it over. “There are definitely others. I just don’t know how many would be willing to, uh, take that big of a risk. What you’re talking about…it’s scary. How many of us would leave forever?”

Adora nods. “Maybe. I think that there are more people than you’d think though. And think about it. There’s almost fifty people at this station, and _every single one_ has a specialized job! No two people do the exact same thing. So…if we all band together? They’ll have to sabotage their own goddamn station in order to punish everyone.” She meets Catra’s eyes fiercely. “There’s a risk, but there’s a risk in _everything_, Catra. And for once in my life I’m in the mood to take some risks.”

Catra slowly nods. “Okay. So how will we do this?”

“We’re stuck here, which I guess you can see as a good and a bad thing. Good because, well,” Adora blushes, “uh, well, we’re here together.”

Catra elbows her and snorts. “You’re ridiculous. And the bad?”

“Well, it’ll be a lot harder to, uh…coordinate a, um, well…unionization effort?”

Catra wolf-whistles. “Damn Adora, who know you were harboring such revolutionary sentiments. Not gonna lie, it’s kinda hot.”

Adora flushes. She glances away and mumbles, “Have been since day one, pretty much. Since Glimmer and Bow laid it out for me. But, uh.” She glances at Catra for a second, then away. “I don’t want to have to be secret. I don’t want to pretend we’re something we’re not. I don’t want to—to have to grin and take it every time Angella gets bitchy about you, for fucks sake!”

Catra’s smile is sharp, and her voice is steady. “Then let’s do this.”

The very first person Adora calls is Glimmer.

* * *

They’re back in the same place, which is standing shoulder to shoulder, staring at the bed.

Adora glances sideways at Catra. “So…you gonna take the couch, or what?”

Catra shoves her shoulder into Adora’s, _hard._

Adora starts laughing, and so does Catra. Adora tackles her onto the bed and Catra just keeps laughing, and then they’re wrestling, both trying to pin the other except they’re laughing too hard to be able to quite manage it until finally Adora manages to hold Catra down for a second, and says, panting, “If you—sleep anywhere except here, with me, I’ll _kill_ you.”

Catra’s smile morphs into something softer, fonder, and she reaches up and tucks a piece of Adora’s hair, that came out in the tussle, behind her ear. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Adora blinks, slowly. Catra’s words drag memories out from where she’d thought she’d buried them. Promises made and broken, and the one, biggest unspoken one was this: If we stay together, we can get through anything.

So Adora leans down and brushes her lips to Catra’s softly, and looks into her eyes when she says, “I’m not either. _I promise._”

She hopes Catra can hear the weight behind those words.

Tonight, Adora strips down to her underwear and shirt, and Catra does the same, and this time, there’s no feigning sleep. No tense muscles and racing thoughts that keep Adora up for hours.

Instead, Catra is nestled into her, legs tangled with Adora’s. This time, Catra drapes Adora’s arm across her stomach and laces their fingers together. Adora presses her face into Catra’s mane and she’s never felt more happy, more peaceful. She feels grounded, for once in her life settled in her own skin.

“Night, Catra,” Adora whispers against the shell of Catra’s ear.

Catra melts in her arms more than she already was, and brings their hands to her mouth to kiss Adora’s knuckles. “Night, Adora.”

“Adora, _listen._”

This is night three, and Adora is being shaken awake. It takes her a moment to realize that it’s not morning, it’s the middle of the night still. She yawns and blinks lethargically, then mumbles, “What? I don’t…hear anything.”

“_Exactly_,” Catra whispers, and climbs out of bed.

Adora immediately misses the warmth of her body and pushes up on one elbow, squinting when Catra flicks on the lights. “There’s—I can’t hear—“ Because there’s nothing to hear. No sound at all coming from outside the lab. And now that Adora noticed it, the _absence _of sound is as loud as a fighter jet. She yawns, and her ears pop.

For the past three days the ever-present low growl of the storm has filled every moment of their days. It’s usually fairly constant, but occasionally punctuated by heavy gusts that slam the lab and make the dishes rattle on the shelves and make tiny ripples appear in coffee mugs and cups of water.

But now…_nothing_. Just the faint whirring of computers from the lab room, which has been present since Adora’s first day in the lab. She hasn’t noticed that hum since arriving at the ICL three days ago.

Adora sits up all the way and goes to join Catra at the window. It’s completely dark outside, because it’s the middle of the night, after all. But when Catra flicks a switch to illuminate the vehicle loading dock…Adora can see the metal stairs, although there’s drifted snow covering over half of each step. She can see the outline of the loading dock, barely visible in a huge snow drift. If she squints and looks to the horizon, she can even see, faintly, the warm yellow glow of the station lights.

“It’s stopped,” Adora whispers.

Catra nods and grabs her hand and squeezes it tightly. “The storm is gone. Whiteout is over.”

Adora turns to Catra and squeezes back, just as tightly. There’s a tension in her stomach that wasn’t there before, because she knows what this means. It means that tomorrow is the day. The day they go back to the station and face the music. “We can do this,” she says.

Catra looks searchingly at her. She seems to find what she’s looking for, because she nods. “Yeah. We _can_.”

When Adora and Catra crawl back into bed, Adora lies on her back, staring at the ceiling, Catra’s head resting on her shoulder. Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, y'all may have noticed I put a chapter total on this! If you'd told me I'd be clocking in over 100k words for this story when I started, I probably would have laughed at you. But here we are, and all good stories have to end eventually. Expect 2 more chapters, and an epilogue. I'll do more of a recap later, but I wanted to give everyone a heads up so you know it's coming! And this time I won't be extending the final chapter count ;)
> 
> This chapter is a lil shorter than I normally do. I am not so familiar with the whole writing fluff thing xD and while I loooove fluffy catradora it's hard to write a whole 5000 word chapter of just that! (for me. way to go all y'all fluff writers out there ily) And also cuz I have been uhhhh distracted lately (good things!! <3) But like, they've been having a grand time at the ICL for the past few days. Imagine whatever u want them to have gotten up to. ;)
> 
> Also, I did [a doodle of Adora and Catra awkwardly in bed](https://herothehardway.tumblr.com/post/616589007106801664/the-dim-green-light-traces-catras-jawline-her) from the last chapter! :)


	25. Under Sunlight pt 1

### Adora

Adora wakes up curled into Catra, and she doesn’t have to pretend she doesn’t love it. She doesn’t have to stop herself from gazing dopily at Catra until she stirs awake, or trace the features of her face with her eyes.

Catra’s eyes slowly drift open, and after a second, they focus on Adora. “Hey,” she says softly.

Adora smiles. “Hey,” she says back, and can’t help nuzzling into Catra’s neck.

She can feel Catra’s throat vibrate as she chuckles. “This how you say good morning?”

Adora kisses the soft, warm skin of her neck lazily. “Mmm, problem with it?”

Catra clears her throat and hums contentedly. “No argument from me…”

Adora draws back to look Catra in the eyes. She gets lost for a minute in them. She’s never been able to decide which one is prettier, or if maybe it’s the striking effect of the two of them together, one blue like the sea, the other the color of peridot, that draws her fascination.

Whichever way it is, it takes her more than strictly necessary to gather her thoughts. “Today’s the day,” she whispers, like she’s telling Catra a secret.

It’s not a secret, it’s only exactly what they’ve decided on, but Adora likes the look in Catra’s eyes. The sharp, iron hardness in her gaze that says that she’s with Adora until the end of the line.

Catra glances at her watch, and suddenly her eyes widen. “Holy shit,” she whispers, and scrambles out of bed.

Adora follows her to the computer lab, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She says to Catra’s back, “What? Is something the matter?”

Catra leads the way into the lab and marches straight over to the computers.

Adora’s heart is pounding as she hurries to her side. But Catra is just looking at…the wall calendar? It’s a calendar of tropical scenery and wildlife, which now makes perfect sense to Adora. If there’s one thing that everyone at the South Pole craves, it’s humidity and the green of living things.

Adora hurries to Catra’s side and asks, “What? What’s wrong?”

Catra stabs her finger to the date. September 23rd. “It’s today. That’s _today_.”

There’s something scrawled on the tiny square on the calendar, and Adora leans forward and squints at it.

Written in Catra’s scrawling hand, is one line. _Sunrise, 7:30_. _Don’t forget!!_

Adora checks her watch. It’s 7:20 AM. She gasps. “Ten minutes!”

Without any need for further discussion, the two of them race out of the lab and scramble to put their many layers of under- and outerwear on.

They work in perfect synchronicity. Adora tosses Catra her mittens when Catra pauses and looks around for a moment. Catra hands Adora her thick wool hat when Adora peers under the bed for it. They yank on their bunny boots, and Adora can’t help grabbing the zipper of Catra’s half-zip and tugging her closer with it, before zipping it all the way up and kissing Catra on the nose.

Adora opens the outside door to a whoosh of frigid air that reminds her that her lungs may not be 100% recovered quite yet (Although it’s significantly warmer than just a few days ago, further proof of how much the weather has shifted).

But instead of the pitch black of the last few months, or the extreme dimness of more recently, the tableau before her is bathed in a pre-dawn glow. The hard-packed snow is a pale lavender blue and absolutely smooth, and the station across that expanse has a rosy hue to it.

The normally clearly delineated, hardpacked road that takes them to and from the lab every day is completely invisible in the drifted snow. Only the reflective flags outline where it normally is. Any other signs have been obliterated by the blizzard.

Adora makes her way down the stairs as quickly as she can with all the snow that’s piled up, hand hovering over the railing. Catra’s footfalls ring on the metal of the staircase behind her. The instant Adora’s boot hits the snow, she takes off to the corner of the building, and Catra is right behind her, and then she’s passing Adora and giggling.

Adora gamely chases after her, ignoring the aching way the cold air tears at her lungs, and almost plows into Catra’s back as she turns the corner. Catra is stock still, staring fixedly at the horizon.

Adora tracks the direction of her gaze, and when she looks too, what she sees takes her breath away.

The horizon is awash in pinks and dusky purples, and when she looks behind them at the opposite horizon, instead of the inky black of the winter, it’s the deepest midnight blue, fading to deep royal blue overhead. She can still see the stars, but the milky way isn’t the splash of glowing liquid poured across the sky that it’s been for so long Adora forgot that it wasn’t always like this.

She looks back to the northern horizon, and there it is. The tiniest sliver of gloriously bright sunlight, cutting through Adora’s vision like a razor. It swiftly becomes more than a sliver, first a narrow semicircle, and then it rises higher and gets brighter.

Adora glances at Catra. Or she means to only glance, but once she looks, she can’t look away.

Catra stares at the sun like it’s a lover, like it’s the world, and Adora should know. She’s almost a little jealous of the way Catra drinks it in, except that, well, the sun is a star millions of miles away, and Catra is right here next to her, Catra is _hers_.

She seems almost spellbound, and Adora _feels_ spellbound, caught in Catra’s gravitational field. Adora has seen her in so many situations over the last few months. Under the unflattering fluorescent lights of the main halls of the station. In the dimmer, warmer glow of the kitchen late at night when they were the only ones still up. In that yellow-orange of the greenhouse, under the blue glow of Catra’s computer screen while they watch a movie together. Under the rainbow of color of the Aurora, under the faint grey light of the stars.

But this…in the fall, the day the sun went down and didn’t come back up, Adora only had eyes for their own warm, main sequence, G-type star. She’d barely even looked at Bow and Glimmer, trying to drink in her last sight of that piercing golden light. Now, she doesn’t think she can look away from Catra.

Catra’s eyelashes catch the light and almost glow, and her irises sparkle. The light plays over her cheekbones, her nose, the arch of her eyebrow. That glorious sunshine glints on her lips, and illuminates the cloud from her breath ever so slightly. Adora shuffles closer to her and knocks Catra’s mitten gently with her own. Catra tears her eyes away from the rising sun and her gaze darts over to Adora. She smiles, faintly, fondly, and she holds Adora’s mittened hand as tight as she’s able to with the bulkiness of the mitten.

Catra suddenly squeezes her eyes shut, and when she opens them, her eyelashes are clumpy and wet. “I can’t believe we…wow, Adora. Do you know how much I fucking love you?”

Adora blinks her suddenly watery eyes. She says roughly, “Yeah, I—“ Because it feels right now like her chest is cracking open, like any distance between herself and Catra is already too much. She sniffs, “I love you too.” She squeezes Catra’s mittened hand even tighter, her eyes closed, because it’s all too _much_ but she never wants it to stop.

When she opens her eyes again, Catra is looking at her like she understands her completely. Then, Catra grins and says teasingly, “We better go inside. You don’t want to get frostbite on your nose or something. And also…” her eyes dart away, and her cheeks flush, “I really want to kiss you, and we can’t out here because it’s colder than hell and I don’t want to get stuck to your face.”

Adora snorts, and then smiles until her cheeks ache. “Do you like me or something?”

Catra scowls at her. “Knock it off.”

Adora wrinkles her nose and grins. “Make me.”

Which makes Catra press her lips together to suppress a smile, but Adora sees the ghost of it anyway.

They both cast one long glance back at the rising sun. There’s no particular urgency in it anymore, because the important thing to see is that _first_ appearance. The sun won’t be setting again for six months.

Still, Adora can’t help the way her feet drag as Catra leads her by the hand back to the lab entrance. She suddenly grinds to a halt, and Catra’s arm yanks behind her before she’s realized Adora stopped.

Adora doesn’t want to step out of that orangey light. She doesn’t want to turn the corner into shadow.

Catra glances back to where Adora’s stopped. “Hey, c’mon, frozen fingers and all that jazz.” She narrows her eyes when Adora doesn’t move, and then her expression clears. “It’s not going anywhere, I promise. Not for a long time.”

Adora takes a deep breath of ice-cold air. She nods, takes a moment to gather her willpower. And then she steps out of the light of the rising sun. Catra grins at her. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? See, the sun is still up.”

Adora glances behind her. She’s pathetically grateful that Catra seems to know exactly what was going through her mind on the edge of the shadow of the lab. But the light is still there, and the tension she hadn’t even noticed drains out of her. It’s still there.

When they get back inside, Catra and Adora start packing the emergency supply bins back up from the sprawl that has developed over the last couple days.

At around 10, Sea Hawk calls. _“I’m coming to pick you girls up after lunch, sound alright? It’s going to take us a couple hours to dig out the vehicle bay doors. I suggested flamethrowers, but alas, my idea was shot down.”_

Adora grins. “Probably a good idea. After lunch works for us.”

Sea Hawk lets out a long-suffering sigh. _“My ideas are never taken seriously, it’s always fire code this, or you’ll melt the snow into ice that! But I’m glad to be the one to come get you two. We fought over who would get to do it, you know. You both need some kind of special custom patch for this.”_

Adora laughs. “That would be pretty cool. Who do I talk to about getting one?”

Sea Hawk chuckles. _“Well, only you two know what you’ve been up to. Maybe you should design it yourselves.”_

Adora rolls her eyes, but says good-naturedly, “Sure, Sea Hawk. Anyway, see you at 1.” She hangs up. Catra is leaning against the wall by the phone, listening intently to the conversation. Adora takes a deep breath. “Well, looks like today is the day.”

Catra smiles crookedly. “Told you. It’s probably a good thing. I’d kill for a shower right now.”

Adora grimaces. “You’re telling me. And fresh clothes.”

She does mean that. She feels pretty grimy at this point. But now that it comes down to it, she also doesn’t want to leave. Out here, things are simple. It’s just her and Catra, trying to figure themselves out and somehow, miraculously, succeeding. Back at the station, it’s more…complicated. There are more people, more variables. Back at the station, they have a responsibility. The kind they volunteered for, created actually, but still.

But everyone is waiting for them. They’re _counting_ on them. And Adora isn’t going to let her friends down. She’s going to try very hard not to let herself and Catra down, either. They deserve that.

They go back to packing everything up, and by some unspoken agreement, they don’t touch the bed yet. But finally, all the bins are packed up, lids on, only _slightly_ less organized than they had been before. Adora looks at Catra a little sheepishly. “So, uh…”

Before she can continue, Catra cuts her off, brow furrowed, “Let’s…let’s wait on that. If this goes well, we won’t need it, right? And if it doesn’t…well, it’ll be here.” Catra is standing next to one of the bins, and her fingers are twisted tight together. Adora doesn’t normally think of Catra as an anxious person. Almost nobody would be considered an anxious person compared to Adora, but within the broader context, Catra always faces her problems matter-of-factly. She may be scared, or nervous, but she never shows it.

Adora remembers the handful of times that she’s seen Catra interacting with Shadow Weaver. She always maintains a kind of offhand casualness, no matter how looming or terrifying her boss gets. In the context, given what Adora has seen and heard, it’s an unimaginable level of brash boldness that not a single other person is able to pull off.

And now Adora has seen the way Catra is a crumpled mess after talking to Weaver, and if she didn’t already, now she really wants to burn that woman to the ground, destroy every piece of her control she can get her hands on. Because anyone who can do that to the strongest person she knows, doesn’t deserve a single thing.

Adora clenches her jaw. “Okay. But we’re _doing this thing_. We’re never gonna use that bed again, because we’re going to be able to be perfectly ordinary and fuck in your bedroom like fucking normal people, and leave the science for the lab. Yeah?”

Catra nods, but Adora can tell she’s not exactly reassured. That’s okay. Adora is ready to do whatever it takes to end this _stupid_ feud.

The sound of a truck engine lets them know that Sea Hawk is here to take them home. Adora takes a look around the ICL. She’ll be back, of course she will. They’re going to do this and they’re going to succeed, and she’ll think about what to do later, if it doesn’t.

Adora quickly pulls on her outerwear, glances back to Catra to make sure she’s ready, and heads down the stairs to the vehicle bay.

* * *

The moment Adora opens the cab door, Sea Hawk lets out an excited whoop. “Aha! The two intrepid explorers return, and _I _get the honor of delivering you home!”

Adora grins as she hauls herself up to the middle seat. Catra is right behind her, and they naturally settle into a position that Adora only reflects may be a tad _obvious_, when Sea Hawk raises an eyebrow at the pair of them. “I see you two have…worked things out?”

Adora scrambles to a more upright position and Catra does the same. She blushes, but Sea Hawk is actually just grinning. He nods in satisfaction. “Well, I’m happy to hear it. We’ve all been worried about you.” And then he mumbles something that Adora can’t quite make out, except for the word _bet._

Adora groans and buries her face in her hands. “Oh my god, _please_ tell me that you haven’t been, like, betting on us or something.”

Sea Hawk clears his throat and puts the truck in reverse. “Well, _betting_, uh, well…” He trails off.

Catra snorts. “Well, I’m sure it’s been an interesting betting pool. Beats whatever the hell we bet on last winter.”

Sea Hawk shrugs apologetically, but not _that_ apologetically. “Well…yes. Yes it does.”

When the truck rolls to a crunching stop in the fresh-packed snow and Sea Hawk hits the button to open the vehicle bay at the station, Adora doesn’t know what she was expecting. Glimmer and Bow, she supposes, because they’re her best friends.

What she definitely _not_ expecting, is a crowd. It looks like practically everyone in the station is here. Sea Hawk maneuvers the truck into its parking spot. When Catra opens the passenger door, Bow lets out an exuberant yell, and then_ everyone _is cheering.

Adora doesn’t know what to make of it. She mumbles to Catra, “Why are they cheering? Because we survived?”

Catra says into her ear, “No, doofus. It’s because of what you planned. It’s going to happen _now_.”

Adora’s stomach clenches at that. Everyone’s hopes are riding on them. She thought she might get more time, although what she would do with more time, she has no idea. There’s never going to be a better time than this one.

Scorpia calls out over the hubbub, “Give them some space everyone!”

Catra says under her breath, “Yeah, cuz we don’t smell so good…”

Adora snorts and elbows Catra in the side. But not hard.

Catra elbows her back, which just makes Adora grin.

Slowly, the cheering subsides to a low murmer as they climb down from the cab.

Adora swallows, hard. She hisses to Catra, “What are they waiting for?”

Catra tilts her head ever so slightly towards Adora. “For you to say something. Got any speeches up your sleeve, princess?”

Adora wasn’t expecting this, and when she thought about what she’d say, it was to Angella, to Weaver. Not to her friends. But she clears her throat and stands up straighter.

“Hey, everyone. So, uh…” She trails off.

Instantly, the murmurs die away, leaving Adora disoriented. She _hates _public speaking. But the next second, she feels Catra’s hand slip into hers, and that comforting pressure is what she needs. She takes a deep breath and continues. “When I look at all of you…what I see is more than just coworkers. It’s more than just friends. This is a family. Some of you have become my best friends.” She makes eye contact with Glimmer, with Bow. They’re standing next to each other, and now even Adora can see the way they’re in each other’s orbits, have _always_ been in each others orbits. But right now, they’re both completely focused on _her, _and the pride in their eyes is unmistakable. Adora scans the rest of the crowd. She catches Scorpia’s eye, and Entrapta’s. Scorpia gives her a thumbs up and a broad smile. “Some, well, I wish I had the _opportunity_ to become better friends with you. Because I know we would be. There’s not a single person here that I wouldn’t want to be friends with. That’s kind of what…what this is all about.”

Adora’s eyes flit over to Catra. “Well. Uh, I guess not _all_ it’s about.” That gets a murmuring laugh, and it kind of hits Adora for the first time that basically, every single person at this station has been rooting for them to get together for months.

She grins. “Guess this is a good time to mention that, uh, Catra and I—“ They haven’t actually said in so many words, what this is. She doesn’t want to put words into Catra’s mouth. She doesn’t—

Catra pipes up almost instantly and says in that kind of challenging way that has driven Adora nuts for years, “Yeah, we’re dating ok, get over it.”

Relief washes over Adora, and she squeezes Catra’s hand. Catra glances at her a little uncertainly, but Adora is probably smiling bright enough to rival the rising sun, and Catra squeezes back and smiles too.

Also, almost half the station pulls out their phones and start muttering with each other. Adora is probably as red as a tomato right now. “Ok y’all can figure who owes who later,” she says with a laugh, and most people sheepishly put away their phones. (Sea Hawk does not. He becomes even more frantic in his texting.)

Adora clears her throat before continuing. “I know that I’m the new kid on the block here, and a lot of you have been putting up with this feud for a long time. You’re probably scared.” Adora takes a deep breath. “I am too. You all…this place has become a home for me. And even though this is my first winter, I _really _want to come back.” She sees nods of approval from several people.

She goes on, “I know that Catra and I haven’t been here to help organize, and that you’re, uh, you’re putting a lot of faith in us right now. Thanks Bow, Glimmer, and Scorpia, for talking to everyone in the last few days, we couldn’t do this without you. So thank you for trusting me—us with this responsibility.”

She hesitates for a second, then lifts Catra and her clasped hands up between them. She looks at everyone gathered here, and she’s grinning fiercely when she says, “We _are_ stronger together, stronger than anything that’s limiting us, restricting us. _We _have the power at this station. I think it’s time we use it, yeah?”

She sees nods of determination, the same look in every single person’s eyes.

So she asks them, one more time. Before it’s go time. “Who’s with me?”

Glimmer pumps her fist into the air and lets out a whoop, and then everyone is clapping. Not in celebration—they haven’t _done_ it yet—but in solidarity. They have her back, the applause tells her. They want this just as badly, and they’ll fight to make it happen.

People pull back until there’s a path to the vehicle bay entrance. Adora looks to Catra, and Catra nods at her. And then the two of them march to the door, side by side.

The passage fills in behind them as the assembled residents of Amundsen-Scott Station follow them.

As Catra and Adora walk out of the hanger, Glimmer appears by Adora’s side, Bow close behind her.

Adora hisses to her, “Where are they?”

Glimmer says, tightlipped, “Cafeteria. Since this morning. I heard…raised voices.” When Adora glances at her, Glimmer is grimacing. “Prepare for the worst, basically. I have no idea what either of them are going to do, but Catra…whatever Shadow Weaver has on you, I think she’s gonna try to use it.”

Catra clenches her jaw. “Yeah, I kinda figured.”

Adora presses her lips together. She’s gotten the sense previously that there’s more going on with Weaver and Catra than Catra really wants to talk about. But she knows how scared Catra is, and so she imagines it’s pretty bad.

Bow says, “Glimmer, what about your mom?”

Glimmer growls under her breath. “My mom needs to get some sense knocked into her. _I’ll_ do it if I have to.”

Adora and Catra are leading, yes, but there’s also momentum behind them, pushing them forward, carrying them into what they _hope_ will be a brighter future. They just get to decide where it goes. So they head toward the cafeteria.

Adora glances at Bow and Glimmer, and mutters incredulously, “I can’t believe you trapped us out there.”

Bow shrugs completely unapologetically. “We can hash it out later. The storm was unexpected, but you two…_really_ needed to talk, okay? It was for your own good.”

They turn the corner, and there are the swinging double doors to the cafeteria. The procession grinds to a halt.

Adora nervously smoothes back her hair. She’s absolutely wired, and yeah she’s nervous as _hell_, but she’s also focused, concentrated. It feels a little like she’s about to skate onto the ice before a big game, all adrenaline and anticipation.

Catra cocks an eyebrow and grins savagely. “See you on the flip side, She-Ra.” Adora hears nothing but confidence in her words. The confidence she heard countless times in college, confidence in her ability to lead the team. But now? Now Catra is confident in _her_, just Adora. And with Catra by her side, Adora knows they can do anything.

Adora squares her shoulders. And she strides forward and pushes the double doors open with both hands.

* * *

Adora has never stopped to think about the fact that she’s actually never seen Dr. Weaver and Dr. Brightmoon in a room together. Now, she knows that she’d never forget it.

The instant she walks into the cafeteria, Catra right beside her, she can feel the animosity in air like a live electrical wire.

The room is brightly illuminated, because the lunch hour ended not long ago, but it still feels oppressively shadowy. The round cafeteria tables and chairs are in their normal mealtime configuration. The instant the doors swing shut, it is completely and utterly silent save for Catra and Adora’s footsteps across the linoleum floor.

Shadow Weaver is standing to their left, hands clasped in front of her, watching them approach from almost inside the doorway to the dish pit. Angella is to their right, as far away as humanly possible from her, standing ramrod straight.

The loathing is so strong Adora could choke on it.

She and Catra come to a halt a few yards away from both of their bosses. Adora stands, feet planted shoulder width apart, one hand grabbing her other wrist behind her. She doesn’t dare look at Catra, but she desperately wants to check on her, make sure she’s okay.

You can hear a pin drop.

The seconds stretch out longer and longer, and Adora thinks hysterically that maybe they’ll just stand her until they calcify into statues. But then Angella clears her throat.

“Hello Adora…and Catra.” Angella adds, like it physically pains her to say it. She addresses Adora, “I’m so sorry, I’m sure the last few days have been difficult for you. Why don’t you come to my office and we’ll discuss things there?”

“And Catra,” Shadow Weaver says, in such a blatantly menacing way that Adora shivers, “Walk with me.”

Catra doesn’t move a muscle. Adora doesn’t either. They’re not touching—they’re shoulder to shoulder, and there’s at least a foot between them—but Adora senses that even this proximity galls both Angella and Weaver.

Adora sets her jaw, stomach clenching. Her heart is pounding in her ears. “No.”

Angella, who previously was maintaining a certain air of professional aloofness, zeros in on Adora. Adora feels a trickle of sweat down her spine. “_No?”_ Angella asks sharply, eyes narrowing.

Adora grits her teeth. “You can’t punish us for something we had no control over.”

Angella frowns, “_Punish_ you, Adora, what are you talking about?”

Adora snaps, “What, so you’re _not_ going to say that I need some,” she aggressively air-quotes, “_distance_ from Catra? Force me to work at the station instead of at the lab, where I get more work done, the work I was _hired_ to do, with my—with my fucking _lab partner?_”

This isn’t in the script, and it’s probably only going to hurt them, but Adora has had this brewing inside her since that first meeting with Angella and now it’s coming out whether she wants it or not.

Angella shoots a cutting look at Shadow Weaver, and then she’s back on Adora. “That was never a punishment, Adora.” She gestures between Catra and Adora and hisses, “You and Catra should never have worked together in the first place!”

Adora’s eyes widen at what is, for Angella, a positively explosive outburst.

Angella tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and pulls back, her normally cool demeanor back in place. But now Adora sees the cracks. Angella takes a breath and closes her eyes momentarily. “Of course I won’t be punishing you. I have always tried to _protect_ you, Adora. Protect you from _her_.” Angella turns and glares at Weaver with such intensity that Adora is a little surprised that she doesn’t melt.

Which is when Shadow Weaver decides to jump into the conversation. “_She_ might not be, but I reserve my right to discipline my own subordinates as I see fit.” She shoots daggers at Catra. “My office, Catra. _Now.”_

Adora’s gaze darts over to Catra.

Catra’s eyes are cold, and hard, and unassailable, and for a moment Adora feels infinitely relieved that Catra is on her side. She says flatly, “No, I will not be going with you. Say what you want here. In front of _them_.”

Shadow Weaver turns from sickly-sweetness to poison lightning-fast. “_No? _How dare you refuse me, you insolent, insubordinate—“

Catra cuts her off bitingly. “I don’t think you’ve really gotten the full picture, Dr. Weaver. Allow me to elaborate.” And she turns back to the door and gives a jerky nod. The top of Glimmer’s cotton candy hair disappears from the glass a moment later, where she’d been watching for the signal.

The doors swing open, and the entire population of the station streams quietly into the cafeteria in under a minute. The only sound in the room is the footsteps of forty-odd people, and Adora’s own harsh breathing in her ears, which she _thinks _she’s the only one who can hear. They form a half circle with Catra and Adora in the center, and Angella and Weaver on the far side of the room. Nobody says a word, and when Adora spares a glace back, she sees the same steely determination on every single person’s face that she’d seen in Catra’s eyes this morning.

Angella and Shadow Weaver, however, are another story. Angella’s eyes are wide with alarm, and Weaver…well, the only thing Adora would ascribe to her facial expression is blind rage.

Dr. Weaver’s voice would slice the two of them to ribbons if it was physically possible, Adora can see it in her eyes. “_What_ is the meaning of this?”

Weaver takes a step towards them, and Adora can almost feel Catra tense beside her. Adora clenches her jaw. She can’t stand bullies. She’s dealt with enough of them to last a lifetime, and she’s just _done_. She practically snarls, “What’s _up_, Dr. Weaver, is that you have been the biggest single source of human misery at this station for too long. And this is where it ends.”

And then she does her best to fix Weaver in place with her glare. “But right now, you’re going to shut up and fucking sit tight.” She turns and looks back at Scorpia, then flicks her eyes at Shadow Weaver. Scorpia nods, and crosses the room to stand a good ten feet away from Shadow Weaver. She just stands there, arms crossed, but by the way that Shadow Weaver goes from looming to merely seething, Adora thinks it’s probably the best she’s going to get.

She strides over to Angella and stands a few feet away from her, arms crossed. “What do you have to say for yourself, Dr. Brightmoon?” Her voice is icy and hard, and it leaves no room for mistaken intent.

Angella clenches her jaw. “I _think_, Adora, that you are interfering with something you have no understanding of. Confrontation won’t solve anything. This—“ she gestures behind Adora to the residents of Amundsen-Scott standing impassively around the perimeter of the room, “—won’t change the fact that that woman has been terrorizing people for years.”

Adora scowls at her. “And you haven’t done a single thing about it. No,” she says quickly when Angella starts to open her mouth, “you don’t get to say you’ve protected us. Maybe you have—maybe without you, Dr. Weaver would be running this place. But you’ve kept the status quo for ten _fucking_ years, Angella, and do you want to know what that status quo is? It’s forcing people apart. It’s making every person walk on eggshells around you, around her, because everyone is too terrified of the consequences of stepping out of line! It’s only protecting _half _of the people at this station, because apparently you can’t be bothered to care about what she’s doing to the other half! And you know what? They’re not _just_ terrified of Weaver. They’re scared of _you_, Angella Brightmoon. Because whatever you’ve done to protect people, well, guess what? It’s still hurt them. And that is _not acceptable.”_

Adora is shaking, although she has no idea whether it’s from anger or anxiety. Both, maybe. She throws her arm out behind her towards the semicircle of her friends. “See these people? Do you _see us_? We’re the ones suffering, because of _you!_ You’re so damn caught up in this ridiculous feud, that you’re blind to the consequences! You could have reported what Dr. Weaver was doing at _any time_, and you have chosen not to for ten years. So don’t you dare say this is all on her.”

Angella stares at her, speechless. And then, her eyes narrow. “Adora, this is crossing the line. You will come with me to my office, _now_, and we will discuss the terms of your contract.”

Adora’s heart is galloping in her chest unsteadily, because she _knew_ this was a risk they were taking, but she had really, really hoped it wouldn’t turn out like this.

“Mom! Just—just stop!” Glimmer bursts out, and takes a step away from the circled crowd.

Angella’s eyes go wide. “Glimmer, what are you—“

“God, Mom, _please_, listen to yourself! Do you even see what you’re doing?”

“I’m trying to protect you, Glimmer, you and everyone else.” Angella pinches the bridge of her nose. “Do you _want_ this vindictive woman to be the one running the station?”

“No, of course not! But do you hear yourself lately? You may not call it punishment, but that’s _exactly_ what it is. Separating Catra and Adora just because they wanted to play on the same team? Who _fucking_ cares what hockey team they play on for the Solstice game? Nobody is trying to—to team up against you, Mom! Or we wouldn’t be, if you hadn’t been playing this fucked up game for so long that we got sick of it!”

Glimmer marches across the linoleum to stand in front of her mother, next to Adora, fists clenched at her sides. “It’s _not a game._ It’s our _lives_, Mom—“ Glimmer’s voice breaks, and she looks over her shoulder at everyone. Or maybe one person in particular.

Glimmer spits at her mother, “Did you know Bow and I are dating, mom? _No_, you didn’t, because you never ask me about anything in my real life, only how my research is going! You’re so fucking wrapped up in this thing with Weaver you forgot about your own daughter! How do you think that makes me feel? How do you think it makes _Dad_ feel?”

Glimmer stands in front of her mother, breathing hard. Adora has never felt so _proud_ of her friend.

Angella’s eyes widen and she opens her mouth, then closes it. Then she says quietly, in the most vulnerable tone Adora has ever heard from her boss, “You and Bow are…are dating?”

Glimmer takes a deep breath. “Yeah, Mom, we are. I just want—_Mom_. Can’t we just—_please_ is there even a tiny chance you can think about something other than your feud, for once? Can you think about the station’s actual wellbeing? Can you think about—“ her voice breaks, “Can you think about _mine?”_

Angella’s eyes fill with tears. She makes a little aborted motion like she wants to take Glimmer’s hand, but lets her hand fall limply to her side. “I—Glimmer, I—“

All of a sudden, Adora hates this. She hates that it’s taking a public confrontation to force Angella to face the consequences of her actions. She hates that Glimmer couldn’t talk about this somewhere private, that it’s getting hashed out in front of the entire station. She hates that Shadow Weaver is right across the room, watching this with a little self-satisfied smirk on her face because she doesn’t yet realize that they’re saving her for last. But from what she’s gleaned from Glimmer…maybe this is the only way. Maybe the only way to get Angella out of this deep, deep groove in her mind that is her feud with Dr. Weaver is to confront her, right now, in front of the people that Adora _knows_ Angella cares about.

Glimmer says, so kindly that Adora’s eyes water, “Let’s go to your office, Mom.” She sighs, “We have a lot to talk about.”

Angella just nods mutely.

Glimmer walks towards the double doors they’d come through, and after only a moment of hesitation, Angella follows her.

The crowd parts to let them through. Glimmer pushes open the double doors with both hands, and Angella catches one door and slips through after her.

And then, they’re gone.

Adora meets Catra’s eyes. Catra’s lips are pressed together, but she looks satisfied. They’ve gotten Angella out of the way.

Which means there’s only one person left to face.

Adora slowly walks to Catra’s side and turns to face Shadow Weaver. Somehow, over the course of the last few minutes, the energy radiating from the woman has shifted from threateningly angry, to threateningly smug. It makes Adora’s blood boil that Shadow Weaver thinks that she’s about to get off scott-free.

But also, there’s so much adrenaline in her system that her pulse is racing, and she doesn’t know how she’s going to get through this. Because that? That was the easy part. Now it’s time for the hard part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, what about that s5, huh? My brain has been melted since midnight on May 15. I like it here. Haha remember how Catra and Adora kissed onscreen and declared their love for each other and it saved the world? Yeah I'm never gonna be over this one folks, thank you Noelle for my life. 
> 
> Anyway, part 1 of the final chapters! First, I'll say that I never anticipated writing a 27 chapter long fic, and therefore my decision to use the (HIGHLY repetitive) lyrics of Sunlight has become much more difficult over time haha! Second, thanks for waiting patiently for the next chapter. :) I'm grateful for every person who has ever read or left kudos or a comment on this lil story.(shoutout to y'all champs who comment every single chapter! You have no idea how much I look forward to hearing from you!) Also. Don't WORRY Shadow Weaver will get what's coming to her >:)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. You can find me over on tumblr [@herothehardway ](https://herothehardway.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/sheraonice1) woohoo!


	26. Under Sunlight pt 2

### Catra

Catra watches Adora cross the cafeteria to stand by her side. She aches to reach over and catch Adora’s hand, but they _can’t_ and it almost physically hurts her.

Adora is as full of vibrating, buzzing energy as Catra has ever seen her. She’s done her part, the part they’d said she would lead, and now it’s Catra’s turn. Angella has been dealt with. Catra hadn’t been expecting Sparkles to jump in there, but apparently it was the perfect thing to push Angella into conceding. And there had been minimal damage done.

The same cannot be said for Weaver.

Back at the lab, Catra had known that she would be the one to bear the brunt of Weaver’s blunt force trauma. Adora and Shadow Weaver have never, to her knowledge, spoken with each other in any meaningful way past generalized terrorization, and she wants to keep it that way as much as possible.

Catra _knows_ Weaver. She didn’t say this to Adora, of course, because she would have instantly balked at it. Catra can imagine what she would have said. _I can’t let you put yourself in danger like that!_

Catra has no intention of watching Adora get eviscerated by Shadow Weaver. She believes they can do it. She _does_. But in her heart, she can’t quash her own fear. Adora thinks she’s about to go head to head with Shadow Weaver, with Catra by her side. Leading, because Adora is built to lead, even if she doesn’t always want to. But for once Catra _really_ doesn’t want to let her.

Adora is…_so_ brave. She’ll set herself on fire to lead everyone home and never flinch from the heat. But she can’t always be the one to do it. She’ll break. When Catra glances over at her, Adora’s shoulders are back and her back is straight and her eyes are flashing, but it’s the posture of someone who knows that if she relaxes, her spine will splinter under the weight.

“Well then, I’m glad we’ve gotten past that little…unpleasantness,” Shadow Weaver says smoothly. Maybe she doesn’t realize that she’s next. But just because they’ve dealt with Angella doesn’t mean she’s no longer on the chopping block. Angella was the relatively easy one because Angella is a good person deep down. They saved Shadow Weaver for last.

Catra flashes through the many variably terrible punishments Weaver has inflicted on people at this station, directly and indirectly. Some, she’s actually witnessed. But the laundry list of things that happened before her time at Amundsen-Scott is long. Weaver is capable of the very depths of pettiness, of nonsensical punishment, of threats that she _will_ follow through on.

Catra takes a step forward, towards Shadow Weaver, subtly blocking Adora with her own body. She may not actually be able to get Adora out of Weaver’s sight, but she can certainly send a subtle message.

Catra realizes that she has been waiting for this moment for two years. Her heart is pounding in her chest, in her throat. This is _it._ She clears her throat and hisses, “Stop. Don’t come near her. Don’t come an _inch_ closer to us.”

Weaver slows and stops a few feet away from them, and Catra sees the moment that her attention shifts from Adora to herself, because instead of the almost-conciliatory expression she’d had when looking at Adora, Weaver’s face contorts into a snarl.

“_Catra.” _

Just a single word, her own name, is enough to give Catra goose bumps. Shadow Weaver has wielded it as a weapon too many times to count. At first, for the first month or so of last winter, she tried out different deliveries, playing around with the balance of distain and ice-cold loathing. Catra isn’t totally sure why Shadow Weaver hates her so much in particular. Maybe she was just looking for a new whipping boy last year, and Catra was the only person she could get her talons on. Maybe it’s because Catra refuses to cower in her presence.

Whatever the reason, by now Catra is far too used to hearing her name fall from her boss’s lips like the very feel of it in her mouth is less than garbage. She’s _used_ to it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still terrify her. And Catra has _never_ done something to actually…justify that behavior. Until now.

Time to earn that antagonism. She can’t wait.

Catra crosses her arms. “What’s up, Shadow Weaver?”

She _feels_ more than sees the shock wave that rolls through the cafeteria at her words. She’s declared her intention with them. And that intention is to take Weaver _down._

Shadow Weaver actually has the nerve to _gasp._

Catra smiles wickedly. “Yeah, heard that one before? Anyone ever say it to your face?” If the way Shadow Weaver is sputtering is any indication, she seriously doubts it.

Shadow Weaver recovers though. “You dare to _disrespect_ me, Catra? I brought you here, I hired you and I have mentored you and I can fire you _just_ as easily.”

Catra’s boss pulls out her phone and says, in a tone laden with sadistic delight, “Dear me. I’ve been waiting for a spare moment to send some paperwork back to the states, and it looks like this would be the _perfect_ opportunity.” She glances up at Catra, eyes blazing, and says saccharinely, “Is there anything you’ll need to wrap up this winter, Catra? I wouldn’t want you to leave any…unfinished business.”

Catra’s heart plunges into her stomach. She knows exactly what Weaver is talking about, and even though she was expecting it, and Glimmer all but confirmed it, it still hits her like a sack of potatoes filled with lead.

Adora’s voice is wavering and uncertain from behind Catra. “…What paperwork?”

Weaver glances up at Adora, in a way that Catra knows is precisely choreographed to give an air of casual nonchalance. Which just means it’s flat-out terrifying. She smiles slyly. “Well, Catra’s _termination_ papers. I keep extremely detailed logs of every infraction any of my subordinates commit. The list is…particularly long with Catra.”

The list _is_ long. The list is also bullshit. Catra doesn’t have to see it to know it’s full of things like, _Catra failed to submit her weekly report on time three weeks in a row_, which fails to mention that she’d been five minutes late hitting _Send_ a few times, and that this is not something that should even have been recorded, let alone phrased in those terms. Or _Catra challenged the authority of her superiors on multiple times in the past week_, when she’d dared to refuse to cower in Weaver’s presence, had refused to bend over backwards and cower. And because there is no oversight above Weaver and Brightmoon down here, and because Brightmoon has always done her best to protect her own and not do a single thing to help Shadow Weaver’s subordinates, and because Catra in particular is Weaver’s favorite and most consistent victim, the list has just gotten longer and longer.

Adora snaps, “What fucking infractions?” She crosses her arms and juts her chin forward. “Catra does her job brilliantly. She’s contributed amazing work to the ICL project _despite_ your oversight, not because of it!”

It’s all so fucking stupid. And Shadow Weaver’s thumb is hovering over her phone, and any second she could hit send and Catra doesn’t know how to _do _this, how to keep her job and stand up for what she believes in and keep Adora safe and she knows there’s a plan but what if it doesn’t _work_—

Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrow and she spits, “Do not concern yourself with affairs that do not affect you, Adora.” Then she turns her attention back to Catra. “Please, Catra, continue what you were saying.”

Catra clenches her jaw and crosses her arms. What she _wants_ to say is, _“If you hit send, I promise you, you’ll regret it.”_ But she can’t show their cards too soon. She tries to gauge Weaver’s level of intent. There are an infinity of degrees of loathing expressions that Catra is familiar with. But this one blows the others out of the water.

This is it, then. Catra braces herself for impact, and tries to remember that she’s supposed to have a parachute.

Her boss raises one eyebrow. “You can’t _possibly_ expect your little trick to work twice, Catra. Angella is weak. A spineless excuse for a Station Manager who thinks that management is about playing_ nice_, second _chances_.” She raises a clenched fist. “Management is about power, and those too weak to take advantage of it.”

The laugh that bursts out of Catra is full of sharp and bloody things. “You think it’s about _power?_” She stalks forward and pokes Shadow Weaver in the chest. “You think this station keeps itself running because of power? Whose, yours?” She laughs. “No. You’re wrong. The only thing that’s keeping us from sinking into this fucking glacier is _love_, and care, and friendship. Concepts that you couldn’t possibly hope to understand.”

Catra grits her teeth. “We’re stuck in this pitch-dark hellhole for six months, and you think that your control is what’s keeping us going? Newsflash, we’ve _never_ needed you. We’re experts at our jobs, and we care about them, and we care about each _other_!”

Shadow Weaver knocks Catra’s hand away violently and snarls, “I’ve heard everything I needed to. Nothing will make you see your mistakes.” She shoves Catra aside so hard that Catra loses her balance and falls on her ass, the impact juddering up her spine, and approaches Adora.

Adora’s eyes are bouncing back and forth between Catra, sprawled on the floor, and Shadow Weaver advancing toward her. She’s tenser, if possible, than before.

Catra slowly gets to her feet behind Weaver, and presses her lips together when she meets Adora’s eyes. She nods fractionally, telling Adora without words that she’s got her back.

Adora squares her shoulders and refocuses on Shadow Weaver.

Catra makes eye contact with Scorpia, standing at the front of the ring of people. Next to her, Entrapta has her phone out, recording everything that’s happened since she came into the cafeteria. Scorpia raises her eyebrows a hair, and Catra nods back. Scorpia starts moving around the perimeter of the circle, but Catra can’t focus on her right now, just trust that she knows the plan.

“Adora,” Shadow Weaver starts smoothly, almost warmly, “There’s no need for you to get caught up in this…” she gestures carelessly behind her in Catra’s general direction, “this unpleasantness.”

Catra practically gets whiplash from the change in tone. Just seconds ago, Shadow Weaver physically pushed her to the ground and demeaned her in front of the whole station. And now she sounds like everything is fine, like Adora may have forgotten what _just _happened.

Shadow Weaver reaches out and tucks a strand of Adora’s hair behind her ear, a move that instantly makes Catra tense up. She continues in that maddeningly silky tone, “If things had gone the way they _should_ have, you would have been under_ me_, Adora. Angella’s meddling has caused this entire,” she gestures broadly to the gathered crowd, “_situation_.”

“Angella will be taking responsibility for what she’s done,” Adora says. Her hands flex open so hard that Catra can see the tendons in her wrists, but her voice remains level. She’s the perfect picture of someone actually considering, except for those hands. “But you don’t seem to think _you_ are, Dr. Weaver.”

Shadow Weaver laces her fingers together in front of her. It’s infuriating how calm she is. “I would have made you the project lead, Adora. You show great promise, I’ve read your work.”

Adora’s eyes meet Catra’s for a split second at that. Adora looks…startled. Taken aback. She stutters, “Wh—“

Catra’s stomach drops. Of _course_ Shadow Weaver would have done that. She hates Catra, has always hated her, and she would have liked nothing better than to force her to the edges of the project she was already working on, since she didn’t actually want to fire her.

But Adora’s eyes are back on Shadow Weaver, and she’s got that kind of laser focus that means her mind is whirring at a million miles an hour. Adora says slowly, “You would do that?”

Shadow Weaver says ingratiatingly, “Of _course_, Adora. You must know how talented you are.”

And then Adora raises one eyebrow. “You’d put a grad student as the head of a project, over the well-regarded, more senior scientist with more experience?”

“I would have _nurtured_ your potential!” Shadow Weaver says eagerly, which makes Catra want to vomit. “_Catra_ has never been more than a placeholder. But you, you are going far!”

Adora asks flatly, eyes hooded, “You claim no responsibility for any of the misery at this station? Angella is completely responsible?”

_“Of course she is_,” Shadow Weaver hisses, and just like that, her veneer of calm is shattered the instant her enemy’s name is spoken. “Her lack of control of her subordinates has created chaos! Her interference has caused conflict when there should only _ever_ have been peace!” She smiles in a way that makes Catra’s hair stand on end. “Just take _you _two. If _I _had been in charge of both of you, I would have ensured that your working relationship would have gone smoothly from the start. Being on opposite sides only _stoked_ your interpersonal problems! Adora, wouldn’t you have rather had a peaceful winter free of grief?”

Which is when Adora finally snaps. “Our interpersonal problems weren’t because of your _fucking_ feud, Dr. Weaver, and they aren’t your damn business! Nobody’s personal life is your fucking business!”

Adora leans toward Shadow Weaver, fists clenched til her knuckles are white, and snarls, “Any artificial sense of peace would only have been because of your manipulation. Catra and I—there is _nothing _you could have done that would ever have helped us. I lo—“ she stutters, cuts herself off.

But Shadow Weaver’s eyes are narrowed, and her voice is silky smooth and absolutely terrifying when she prompts, “You…what? Go on, please.”

Adora glances back at Catra over Shadow Weaver’s shoulder, mouth opening and closing like a drowning fish, and Catra can read the panic in her eyes, in the furrowing of her brow. Adora hadn’t meant to say that, almost say that. It hadn’t been in the plan, and with the way that Adora is absolutely wired right now, her brain can’t handle deviation from the plan. Catra can practically see the crashing of careful plans behind her eyes.

But Catra is happy to improvise. And anyway, the consequences don’t matter anymore. Shadow Weaver can try to do whatever she wants to Catra. She will almost definitely fire her. But Catra is more and more confident with every additional incriminating minute of recorded evidence that what Shadow Weaver does won’t matter shortly. And if this _is _the end of the line for her at the station, she might as well go out with a bang.

She strides past Shadow Weaver, heavily running into her shoulder on the way by, right up to Adora. Adora’s eyes go wide, darting back and forth between Catra and Weaver, who based on the incoherent noises behind her, is winding up for another tirade at the gall Catra has to touch her, or something.

Catra grins savagely and looks Adora dead in the eyes. “Hey, Adora,” she growls. And she grabs Adora by the lapels and yanks her down to kiss her square on the mouth.

For a moment, Adora is frozen. But that moment passes almost instantly, and she’s kissing back hard and fierce, and Catra pours all her anger and her frustration and her fear and her love into it, into her hands fisted into the collar of Adora’s shirt, tugging the fabric completely out of shape. And Catra can feel her own emotions reflected in the way that Adora presses into the kiss and the way she brings her hands to Catra’s jaw and the way Adora works her mouth, the intensity of it, the desperation. Adora kisses her back like she wants to devour her, and Catra is right there with her.

Catra wrenches herself back with a gasp after a minute, and takes just a moment to get a read on Adora. Adora, whose cheeks are flushed, whose lips are pink and shiny, who is looking at Catra with dark eyes. She’s proud for a minute. They’re in front of the entire station, and Adora looks about ready to drag Catra into a broom closet.

But Catra only takes a moment. And then she turns on the woman who has done her best to make her life a living hell in every way she possibly could for a year and a half.

“_You dare?” _Shadow Weaver snarls, spit flying. She’s apoplectic with fury, and if Catra’s heart rate wasn’t elevated already from everything that’s already happened, it sure as hell is now. Weaver pulls out her phone from her pocket lightning fast. “This is the _end_ of you, Catra Romero. I am telling you right now, you will _never _set foot in this station again!_” _And she hits _Send_.

Catra just cocks one eyebrow and slings her arm over Adora’s shoulder, even though she has to fight down the nausea at the thought of the report being seen by anyone else. “Thanks, _Shadow Weaver._”

Shadow Weaver snarls, “I knew from the _moment_ you set foot at the station that you were no good. Do you know what I’ve done, you stupid girl?”

Catra bristles at Shadow Weaver’s words. But it doesn’t matter anymore, because everything Shadow Weaver says is just another nail in her own coffin. She narrows her eyes. “Yeah, I know what you just did. You signed your own warrant, you old hag. Because guess what? We have _evidence_.”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes widen fractionally.

Catra carries on, eyes flashing, further emboldened by Adora’s arm slipping around her waist, firm and solid. “You thought you were so _clever _with your little Snapchat videos. They vanish after they’re open, right? Almost as good of an intimidation tactic as relying only on in-person communications, right?”

She hopes Shadow Weaver is starting to get the full picture now.

“You thought you could rely on our fear of you to keep us quiet. We would never tell anyone back home, because you have those little _files_ all neatly compiled. Well guess what? When we send this to funders? They’ll only see those files as tools in your arsenal.”

She makes a little hand gesture behind her back, and Entrapta pushes her way past a few people to enter the ring and waves her phone cheerfully. “I recorded _everything!”_

Catra raises an eyebrow at Shadow Weaver. “See, what you just did? Most people would call that _intimidation_. And what you said to Adora after that, well, that’s bribery! It’s really very simple when you come down to it.”

Adora, beside her, grins and nods. They hadn’t been expecting the whole bribery thing, but it’s working out better than Catra could possibly have anticipated.

Catra strides to the edge of the circle and makes a sort of theatric, twirling gesture to the phone held in Entrapta’s hands. “And we have evidence of it right _here_.” She pops into the frame and makes a face at the camera. “Hey Mom and Dad!” Then she turns back to Weaver.

“This?” Catra gestures in a wide sweeping motion at the semicircle of her coworkers and friends, “We’re unionizing, _bitch_. And guess what? We’ve decided that we’re not fans of management. _Especially _you.”

Shadow Weaver sputters, voice rising hysterically, “You can’t _do _this! I have led this station for a decade, you can’t just _take it away! I _am in charge!”

“And what, exactly, will you be in charge of when you fire us all? Because sure, I’m the one speaking right now. But every single person at this station stands behind me.”

At that, Scorpia breaks away too and marches up to Shadow Weaver. She slaps a piece of paper to Weaver’s chest.

Shadow Weaver frantically tries to grab the paper as it peels off her front and starts to flutter to the ground. She manages to grab it right before it hits the linoleum, and squints at the paper.

Scorpia crosses her arms and says coldly, “This is our public statement. Everyone at the station has signed it. It describes the working conditions we have been living with, and a list of demands. The first one is immediately removing you from your position as manager.”

Catra has never heard Scorpia sound so…impassive. But she also knows that Scorpia has felt Shadow Weaver’s wrath more strongly, and more recently, than anyone at the station. Even Catra, who has been threatened with losing her job on a weekly basis starting the very first month that she started at the station, hasn’t faced the level of punishment that Scorpia has. Not only being expressly forbidden from seeing Perfuma, but also forcing her entire life to shift to an essentially-unnecessary and extremely monotonous job that makes it almost impossible to even work _around_ that mandate, is the kind of abuse of power that built Shadow Weaver’s reputation in the first place. Not that Catra was surprised when it happened. Just that Scorpia is finally pushing back. She’s kind of proud of her.

Catra grins cockily at Shadow Weaver. “This isn’t a list of demands for you, or Angella. It’s going to _your _oversight. So. Thank you, I guess. After all, if you hadn’t just fired me, our case wouldn’t have been _nearly_ as strong.”

She plants a showy kiss on Adora’s cheek and Adora smiles and says, “You kind of fucked up on this one, Shadow Weaver. Which is why you are no longer going to be a manager, effective immediately. Scorpia has volunteered to compile any actually necessary paperwork that needs to be sent back to the states every week.”

Catra almost trips over her words to get the pleasure of saying the next bit. “And until the end of the winter, you will be confined to your quarters except for necessary activities. And you’re leaving on the first plane out.”

Shadow Weaver looks around the cafeteria. Catra follows her gaze to the people surrounding them, and can imagine that Shadow Weaver is tallying them up. They’re _all_ here, with the exception of Glimmer and Angella. And none of them are going to budge.

The slow slump of her shoulders tells Catra everything she needs to know, and it gives her a little vindictive thrill to see it. _They_ did this, they brought Shadow Weaver to her knees. Her and Adora. Her, and Adora, and everyone else at this station who was tired of all this bullshit.

Really, there’s nothing Weaver can do at this point. They walked into this confrontation with more than enough tools to take her down, and she knows it.

“It seems there is nothing I can do at this point,” Shadow Weaver says defeatedly. “You’ll see I’m right when I’m not here to guide you, but clearly my wisdom is no longer welcome.”

Catra calls, “Rogelio, Lonnie, do you mind escorting Shadow Weaver to her room?”

Lonnie grumbles a little, but she and Rogelio come and take Weaver by the elbows and frog march her out of the cafeteria.

The double doors swing shut behind them.

There’s a moment of complete silence.

And then the room erupts into cheers as everyone rushes forward to embrace Catra and Adora. And it’s hot and claustrophobic and Catra is crying, she realizes, and her relief is so overwhelming that she’s choked up with it all.

But then Adora’s hand finds hers, somehow, and she tugs Catra close, and although all around them their friends are laughing and celebrating and jumping up and down, all Catra cares about is the fact that Adora is here, in front of her.

Adora presses her forehead to Catra’s and whispers, “We did it, we really did it,” and Catra hears what she means which is _I love you_.

Catra angles her head just right and kisses Adora again, hard, and Adora presses into it just as forcefully, like if she can’t meld their bodies into a single entity right now she might die. Which is exactly how Catra feels too.

Sea Hawk crows joyously, “Get a room, you two!” At which point everyone is paying attention to them. For once, Catra wholeheartedly agrees with Sea Hawk.

Adora breaks the kiss and looks at her so _fondly_ that Catra’s heart breaks with it, with the realization that Adora is hers, hers to love in public, out here in front of all their friends and, well, family.

Catra glances around the room. The lights are on in the kitchen now, and a whole swarm of people are in there helping Razz pull a cake and buckets of ice cream from nowhere. There are tablecloths on the tables all of a sudden, and people are clustered together, talking and laughing. There are bottles of champagne suddenly, which means there will probably be toasts.

She spots Glimmer slip back in, sans Angella, and beeline straight for Bow, and Bow wraps her into a bone-crushing hug. Good. She can’t imagine Glimmer has had a very good time in the last little bit.

If there are going to be toasts, then they’re probably going to be expected to make speeches or something…

Catra meets Adora’s eyes. Adora smiles softly and murmurs, “I’m not really feeling up to speeches right now. How about you?”

Catra bites her lip to keep from smiling like a total dork, except that she can’t stop and probably looks like a dork anyway. “Me either. Wanna dip?”

Adora nods, the relief evident in her eyes, and laces her fingers together with Catra’s before tugging her across the cafeteria to the dorm hallway.

Glimmer catches Catra’s eye from over Bow’s arm and makes a face at her, but Catra just grins and shrugs and mouths, _you do the toasts_, before she’s dragged into the hallway by the hand.

The instant the door swings shut, Adora is pressing her up against the wall, kissing a burning line down the side of her neck, running her hands up Catra’s sides. “_God_ Catra, you just—you did—“

Catra laughs even as she stretches her neck to give Adora better access. “Can’t even make it to my room, huh She-Ra?”

Adora chuckles and draws back slowly, and the look she gives Catra is heavy and hot against her skin. “No.”

Catra cocks an eyebrow. “Eager much?”

Adora breathes, “_Yeah_,” into her skin and Catra fumbles for her vest pocket to find the key to her room and pushes herself upright again.

She can’t repress the giggle that bubbles up inside of her. “C’mon then, you dork!” and she takes off down the hallway, sprinting for all she’s worth. It’s not a very long hallway, and by the time she gets to her door, Adora is only steps behind her.

Catra fumbles for the lock, which is a little difficult with Adora pressing up against her back, with her mouth on Catra’s spine. The key _finally_ goes in, and she hurriedly turns it and pushes the door open.

The two of them practically fall into Catra’s tiny room. Adora sits down with a thump on Catra’s bed and grabs the hem of her shirt.

But when the door closes behind Catra and she meets Adora’s eyes, her chest suddenly feels tight. And instead of immediately pouncing on Adora like she’d planned, Catra slowly walk over to stand between Adora’s legs.

Adora lets go of her shirt halfway over her head and lets it fall back down.

And that look is back in her eyes. The fond one, the one that makes Catra want to squirm because she’s not _used_ to this. She’s used to feeling examined and found wanting. But all that Adora’s eyes hold _is_ wanting.

Catra lifts a shaky hand to tuck a strand of Adora’s golden hair behind her ear. She feels shy all of a sudden. Because what if the thing that demanded they stay apart _was _the things that pushed them together? What if Shadow Weaver was right? What if—

“I love you,” Adora says reverently, quietly, like a confession.

She runs her thumbs over Catra’s hipbones and bites her lip and looks up at Catra through her eyelashes.

Catra has to close her eyes, break their gaze, because it’s all just too _much_. Because Adora is here, and she loves her so goddamn much and if she looks at Adora’s earnestness for another second she’ll cry and that will _really_ ruin the mood.

She tilts her chin up, eyes still squeezed shut. Her fingers slide into Adora’s hair, and she presses Adora’s face into her stomach. Adora’s arms wrap around her waist, press up her back.

“I love you too,” Catra whispers to the ceiling, and she feels the shuddering inhale that Adora takes when she says it.

Catra gently pulls away from Adora, but it’s only so she can sit on the bed next to her. “Hey,” she says softly.

Adora just smiles. She says slowly, “So…no more hiding. Pretty wild, right?”

Catra quirks an eyebrow. “Does this mean instead of pulling you into broom cupboards I get to kiss you in public?”

Adora blushes and laughs. “I think we just did.”

“Yeah, but I want to when it’s not to prove a point.”

Adora’s lips part and it takes her slightly longer than expected to respond. Which is fair, seeing as Catra’s brain has decided to play through all the many things she would like to do in public with Adora now that they don’t have to hide anymore. After a beat, Adora says, “Yeah. I’d, uh, I’d like that.” Then she blinks lethargically and refocuses on Catra in a much weightier way. “I also want to talk about. Um. About when we go home. I don’t—I don’t just want this to be a winter thing, Catra. I don’t know if I’ve said that before now.”

Catra’s heart might actually thump straight out of her chest. She’d hoped, of course. She’d wanted, and it had seemed like Adora had been thinking the same thing but they haven’t _talked_ about it.

And Catra knows just how hard it is for Adora to talk about this kind of thing, and _she_ brought it up. Catra says quietly, “I want you for as long as you’ll have me, Adora.”

Adora’s shoulders relax, and she lets out a long, slow breath. “Okay. Good. I want—I want that too.”

Catra scoots closer and slides one hand to the back of Adora’s neck and gently pulls her towards her. “Want to talk about this more later?” She murmurs against Adora’s lips, “I think a little celebration is in order at the moment.”

Adora grins and nods and kisses her. It’s a terrible kiss, because both of them are smiling too hard, but it feels like home.

Nobody is going to catch them. There’s nothing to catch anymore, they’re not breaking the rules. They’ve never done anything _wrong_ but now there’s nothing stopping them.

Catra has never been happier.

### Adora

It’s with a certain amount of trepidation that Adora launches the script that they’ve been working on. Catra is leaning over her shoulder, watching her do it. Or more accurately, Catra has both arms looped around Adora’s shoulders. And calling it watching would be a stretch. _Distracting _would be significantly more accurate, given the way that she’s nuzzling into Adora’s neck.

Adora blinks rapidly to try to refocus on the lines of code scrolling up her screen, because it’s working. She says, “So far so good,” sort of breathily, because it’s very hard to focus.

Catra purrs, “So far so good,” And Adora can feel the vibration of her throat on her neck.

She laces her fingers through Catra’s and then lifts Catra’s arms off her shoulders, swiveling around in her chair. “As much as I want to, it’s almost dinner.”

Swiftwind perks up from his position curled up under the desk at the mention of the word _dinner_, and Adora absentmindedly combs her fingers through the soft fur of his head.

Catra pouts. “The program takes like, forty-five minutes to run. It’s not like we’re gonna miss anything if we’re not sitting staring at the screen.”

Adora can’t help the warmth that overwhelms her like a tidal wave as she just looks into Catra’s blue-green eyes. It’s been two weeks since the storm, two weeks since they deposed station management. Two weeks since she’s been able to look at Catra like this in public, without worrying who will see. Not that there’s even anyone to see here anyway, which is why it is so _very_ hard to resist temptation right now.

Adora has no idea how she managed to keep everything bottled up for the whole first half of the winter, because Catra is practically irresistible now. She can’t say no to her, doesn’t actually _want_ to, however much she might protest that they’re at work.

Forty-five minutes later finds the two of them stacking crates back onto the emergency bed a little sheepishly. Adora knows it probably won’t always feel like this. But there’s not a lot else to do, honestly, which is why so many people hook up in the first place, so really they might as well. And really, if the decision was between reading articles on her phone, or acquiescing to her girlfriend (girlfriend!), could anyone really blame Adora?

And Catra _was_ right, the program does take a while to run, and just works by itself. It doesn’t need them at all really…Adora mentally smacks herself. She’s just trying to justify breaking the rule that she herself had instituted in the first place, which is ridiculous.

They head back into the computer lab and Adora throws herself into her chair and skids across the linoleum. She grabs the desk to stop herself in front of the computer.

She squints at the messages that managed to print, Catra leaning forward with her elbows on the table next to her. Yes, that one worked, yes, no weird things so far, yep, yep…she gets to the end of the file and turns to Catra. “Oh my god I think it _worked!”_

Catra’s smile is huge. “It worked? Oh my god! Quick, run it on the full dataset!”

Adora makes the necessary adjustments and hits _run_, and then pulls up the error log for their trial run. It’ll take much longer than forty-five minutes to run on the entire dataset, probably at least overnight. She quickly scrolls through the error log, full of statements that they’d inserted to keep an eye on what was going on.

She stands up and beams at Catra. “No errors!”

Catra leaps into the air and crows, “No errors!” And then she starts skipping around the lab, chanting, “No errors! No errors!”

Adora starts jumping around too. “No errors! No _fucking_ errors!”

All the commotion makes Swiftwind get up from his spot and start barking and running around the room, feeding off Adora and Catra’s energy.

They’re both dancing around the lab, laughing in relief and joy, for at least five minutes. This is what they’ve been working on for the entire winter. Adora takes a second to scratch Swiftwind, but she doesn’t stop dancing, because they _did_ it and she’s excited. Swiftwind wags his tail aggressively and prances around the two of them.

After several minutes, Catra finally jumps into her own chair, at her monitor, and starts an email. “Okay obviously we have to wait until we verify with the whole dataset, but this is amazing! We have to update the folks back home.”

Catra’s fingers fly over the keys, and Adora grins as the words flow across the screen. “I was kinda starting to think we wouldn’t figure it out, maybe.”

Catra snorts. “Yeah, low-key me too. But we’ve made so much progress in the last couple weeks. And if everything works, we’ll basically be done!”

Adora groans. “And now we have to work on documentation.”

Catra also groans. “Gross, don’t make me think about documentation until we’re actually doing it.” She pauses in her typing and makes a little face. “And okay, I hate to say it but you were right, it was a good idea to have a ban on physical stuff at the lab until now. We’ve gotten a lot done.”

Adora sticks her tongue out. “Told you. But I mean…it’s working now. So if you wanna, uh, _not_ have that anymore…I’d be. Down.”

“Someone’s feeling good after earlier,” Catra teases.

Adora blushes, but kisses Catra’s cheek. “_Someone_ made me feel really good earlier. I had a change of heart.”

Catra rolls her eyes. “Change of _heart_, huh? Whatever you say, princess.”

Adora remembers when Catra calling her that made her angry. But now, there’s no heat in it, only familiarity and love, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t secretly like it.

“Shut up,” she says, which makes Catra laugh.

* * *

“Glimmer, hang on!” Adora calls after her roommate. Well, former roommate technically. Both because Adora has spent almost every night in Catra’s room for the last month, and because, well, they’ve got a plane to catch.

Glimmer hurries back into the room, looking a little frazzled. “Ah, sorry!” She exclaims when Adora hands her a pair of socks and her toiletry bag. “Did you find anything else?”

Adora had volunteered to do a final sweep of the room, because while Glimmer is many things, thorough and clean are not two of them. She takes one last look around their room. Everything has been stripped, and the room awaits new summer occupants. Glimmer and Adora both boxed up some of the things that will stay down here in storage for the summer, and they’re already gone. So all that’s left are Adora’s duffel bag, and one last thing.

Adora picks up the photo of her and Catra off the dresser and looks at it for a long moment. What would have happened if things had played out differently? If they’d never had that fight, or cut each other out of their lives for five years. If they’d just _stayed_ together?

Would they have kept being best friends forever? Or would the same things that had caused that fight in the first place, eventually have torn them apart anyway? If they’d clung to each other and refused to let go, even when the threads that tied them together were being snapped one by one, would this ever have happened? What were the chances that they’d end up here, the most remote place on earth, together? She supposes she’ll never really know.

But she wishes she could go back and tell that Adora, that twenty-two year old Adora, that someday, there’s something even better than a championship with Catra waiting for her. That things are going to hurt, more than anything. That things are going to break, and she won’t have a clue how to pick up the pieces.

But also, that someday she’s going to realize that she deserves to be happy too. Fully, wildly, no-holds-barred happy. And that the things she wants are also, miraculously, things that she can have.

She somehow doubts her younger self would have listened. But that’s okay. She got here eventually.

She runs her thumb across the glass and takes one last look at the two of them, exhilarated and riding the high of their victory. It doesn’t hurt to look at, anymore.

Adora slips the photo into the side of her duffel and slings it over her shoulder. She heads to the door and shuts it behind her, locks it, then pockets the elephant seal key fob. Glimmer hands her Swiftwind’s leash.

Adora glances at Glimmer. “So, uh, your mom is gonna check everything out after? We don’t need to wait for her to look at the room?”

Glimmer nods. “Yeah, she has to stay for another week to hand things over to the guy who manages things for part of the summer when she’s home.”

Angella has only been resuming a portion of her duties in the last couple weeks. For a while, they hadn’t totally known what to do with her. Everyone agreed that she shouldn’t just hop back into it, but with Shadow Weaver completely removed from power, most people were willing to let Angella have a second chance, provided that she was supervised. She’ll be managing the station next winter, with much more oversight both from people back home and an elected committee of overwintering people. They’ll be giving her monthly feedback and reviews, until such a time that the station agrees it is no longer necessary. If next winter goes well, she’ll be able to continue as the sole station manager.

Shadow Weaver, on the other hand, was on the first plane out of Amundsen-Scott a week ago. And previously to that, she’d been confined to her quarters and escorted anytime she needed to leave. Everyone had agreed that the last thing they wanted was Dr. Weaver popping up around a corner unexpectedly. She’d cleaned out her office the day after the big showdown.

They’d compiled all the materials they could pull together documenting Shadow Weaver’s abuse, along with written testimonials from every one of her supervisees. Adora hasn’t been as involved in that, but Catra has spent a lot of time putting everything together with Scorpia and Entrapta. It’s safe to say that Weaver will never be coming back to Amundsen-Scott, or indeed, getting close to any sort of research at all.

Adora doubts Shadow Weaver will have a very easy time finding a job after this, but frankly she couldn’t give less of a shit about it.

Shadow Weaver’s firing of Catra had really been the icing on the cake: When framed by all that evidence, it had been as clear as day that it was a retaliatory action. And Adora’s long message to the oversight committee describing Catra’s truly exemplary work had also helped ensure that she would only be leaving the ICL team when _she_ wanted to, and not a moment sooner.

And so it’s with a light heart that Adora walks to the cafeteria with Glimmer and Swiftwind.

When they enter, Bow and Catra are both sitting at a table, bags surrounding them in a semicircle. Adora goes straight for Catra and kisses her on the cheek. “Ready to go?”

Catra grins. “I’m ready to be somewhere that isn’t fucking freezing all the time.”

Bow chimes in. “I’m _so_ excited for Hawaii you guys!”

“Duh,” Catra says, “In a couple weeks, once we’re not completely jet lagged and useless. I want to feel the sun on my skin.”

The plane tickets are already booked. Which is good, seeing as even the thought of a couple weeks apart from Catra makes Adora miss her already. But they’re in different cities right now, and it’ll take some time to change that. Catra is already looking at fellowships that are closer to Adora, at least until Adora is done with her program. Then…they’ll have to see what’s next.

But right now, what’s next is catching a plane. The four of them gather all their stuff, and zip up their red overcoats for the last time this year. Then they head to the plane.

There is only one sunrise at the South Pole, and one sunset. Adora saw both this year, meaning that for the last month, there has been glorious, beautiful sunlight, even though the sun stays close to the horizon.

Her boots crunch on the hard-packed snow and the four of them cast long blue shadows across the snow as they all dump their stuff into a truck and squish into the cab with Sea Hawk. Adora thinks it’s appropriate that he’s the one taking them, since he was the one to pick her up when she first arrived.

That first day feels like a lifetime ago. She’d arrived here full of uncertainties, full of determination to prove herself and insecurity about whether she even deserved to be here in the first place, with no idea of what the next few months would bring. And she’s leaving with two best friends, the love of her life, and a home in every sense of the word.

They arrive at the plane to find it a swarm of activity. People are rushing past them, and there are multiple other trucks also being used to transport people. Not everyone is leaving, but plenty of them are. Sea Hawk turns to Adora. “Well, it’s been an honor this winter, Adora. I hope that we’ll be seeing you next year?” He looks hopeful.

Adora grins and nods. “I’ll be back. We still haven’t had that arm wrestling competition, remember?”

Sea Hawk’s eyes widen. “You’re absolutely right! I’d better up my game while you’re gone! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to say goodbye to my dearest Mermista—“

Adora tackles him into a fierce hug. She whispers in his ear, “I’m really gonna miss you, and everyone. Thanks for everything, Sea Hawk.”

And because he’s Sea Hawk, he does start crying. Adora pulls away and gives him a little salute. “See you in a few months. Can’t wait to beat you next winter!”

Sea Hawk nods and smiles waterily, then rushes over to where Mermista is hauling her bags out of another truck, driven by Double Trouble.

Adora turns to the Best Friend Squad. “Alright. Ready?”

The three people she loves most in the world all grin and nod. Swiftwind wags his tail. Adora glances down at him. “We’d better get in there before Swifty freezes, huh?”

The inside of the plane is completely different than the one Adora had arrived on. For one, there are at least a dozen people inside, instead of only three, and there is significantly less cargo and more space for luggage. Adora leads the way to where Swiftwind’s crate is located, and coaxes him inside. He settles in, while the four of them get their bags all situated. This is only their first of three flights before they’re home, first to McMurdo, then to New Zealand, and then finally back to the US.

Bow and Glimmer almost instantly curl up next to each other, and Glimmer is half asleep on Bow’s arm within minutes. Adora and Catra sit down across the narrow aisle from them.

A few minutes later, there’s a last call over the speakers, and then the cargo bay door is closing, and the thrum of the engines starts up. The captain tells them that they must remain seated during takeoff, and the plane starts taxiing to the runway.

Adora rests her head on Catra’s shoulder and laces their fingers together. After a minute, she mumbles, “I can’t believe we’re really leaving.”

Catra squeezes her hand and says teasingly. “Don’t you want to finish your degree?”

Adora lets out a little huff of laughter. “Yeah, I mean…yeah. It’s just…what if things are different back home? What if—what if _we’re_ different?”

She can’t prevent the note of worry from creeping into her words. This is what keeps her up at night.

Catra is quiet for a minute. The plane picks up speed. Finally, she says, “It’s gonna be different. Of course it will be. But we’re going to figure it out, okay? _Together_.”

Adora closes her eyes and smiles. She feels the moment the plane takes off, the rumbling instantly dropping to a low roar. “Yeah, together. I like the sound of that.”

She’s leaving the first place that’s really felt like home in a long, long time. But suddenly, it doesn’t feel like she’s leaving anything. It feels like home is _here_, right here in this cargo plane, with Catra’s hand warm in hers, and her best friends an arms-reach away, and her dog curled up, already asleep next to her.

It doesn’t feel like the end of anything after all. It feels like a beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end. Just kidding, there's gonna be an epilogue! But this is the end of the winter for Catra and Adora. :') They've come a long way, y'all. I'll put my big sappy note in the actual last chapter haha but I have a lot of Feelings about almost being done with this fic, and She-Ra in general. I definitely plan on continuing writing spop fanfics. :D
> 
> Well, Shadow Weaver finally got what was coming for her! (Although it wasn't freezing to death, as multiple of you requested haha! It's not that kind of fic xD but if it WAS...that's how she'd go.) And Catra and Adora wrapped up Adora's first winter at the South Pole! They figured out the problem with the ICL!! Woohoo!
> 
> @senatorq made some absolutely gorgeous fanart of [Adora](https://senatorq.tumblr.com/post/621230592519962624/herothehardway-my-hand-slipped-again) and [Catra](https://drawq.tumblr.com/post/621040093869801473/anyways-herothehardway-has-a-killer-catradora-fic), go check those out they're amazing! If you make fanart, please link me, I wanna see! 
> 
> You can find me over on tumblr [@herothehardway](https://herothehardway.tumblr.com/), or on twitter [@sheraonice1](https://twitter.com/sheraonice1), come hang out! As always, thank you for reading. <3


	27. Epilogue

#### 2 Months Later

### Adora

“Are you sure this is okay?” Adora asks Catra, feet slowing almost to a standstill on the sidewalk.

Catra glances back at her, hand on the handle of the door of the skating rink, and grins. “Yeah, c’mon, you’re gonna love it.”

She hauls open the door and extends her hand to Adora. “I know you’re worried, but I promise, it’ll be fun!”

Adora takes Catra’s hand and follows after her girlfriend. She feels more unsure of herself here, than she maybe ever has in a rink. But an ice rink is an ice rink is an ice rink, and everything is unfamiliar-familiar in the way that things get when you’ve been in and out of them since you were a little kid. There are the same rubber mats on the floor, the same smell, the same vending machines.

And although she didn’t meet Catra until college, she has an outsized place in Adora’s mental map of hockey. In Adora’s mind, hockey is interwoven with Catra so fully that when Catra was gone, Adora’s ability to enjoy it crumbled into ruin. But since their reconciliation, she’s surveyed the damage, and figured out how it might be repaired, shored up. And this is Catra helping her do it.

Adora isn’t sure if Catra realizes just how much she’s helping, just by being her, just by asking casually one night over their video call if she wanted to come to her practice when Adora was here this weekend. But that’s part of the reason why this works so well, isn’t it? Catra might not have any idea how much it means to Adora that she invited her. But she _did_ invite her.

She’s visiting Catra for a long weekend, and the weekend feels entirely too short already, even though it’s only Friday evening. And really, all she wants is to go back to Catra’s apartment and just…_touch_ Catra, the way she can’t when she’s at school and Catra is hundreds of miles away doing her stateside ICL work. They trade off visiting each other every two weeks, and Adora is getting _very_ familiar with the drive. She still has to finish her PhD, and Catra’s post-doc is in another city, but at least they’re within driving distance.

They’re making it work, for now.

And this is what Catra does on Friday nights. So here they are, at a skating rink, equipment stuffed into a bag slung over Catra’s shoulder.

And Adora hasn’t been this nervous about hockey in a long time.

Catra waves at the person at the counter, and Adora follows her to the stairs down to the rink. The cold air wafts over her, and her ears are filled with the sound of voices and the scrape of skates on ice.

Catra says, “I asked them if you could come last week, and they said it was cool!”

“Okay, if you’re sure…” Adora trails off, and takes in the sight in front of her.

There are a little over a dozen women, some on the ice warming up, some still lacing up their skates and chatting with their friends. One looks up as they approach. “Hey Catra!” She calls, “Is this the girl you’re always going on about?”

Adora’s face flushes. She mutters under her breath to Catra, “Always going on about?”

Catra glances at her and smiles slyly. “Only good things princess, I promise. C’mon, they’re gonna want to meet you.” She walks over to a bench and sits down next to the woman who had just spoken. “Hey Katie, how’s it going? This is Adora.”

Adora stands next to the bench, smiles and gives a little awkward wave at Katie. “Hi! Uh, Catra said you guys were cool with me joining you for the night?”

Katie gives an easy laugh. “Of course! We’d always welcome another person, gives some of us old farts more time on the bench, which believe me, _we_ _need_.” She sizes Adora up. “So, former Olympian, huh?”

Adora goes even redder, if possible. She hisses across Katie at Catra, “You didn’t tell me they knew about that!”

The corners of Katie’s mouth twitch into a smile, but Adora ignores her for a second.

Catra rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “What, did you think nobody would recognize you? Any woman who makes time in her life to do Adult Classic is almost guaranteed to follow women’s pro hockey.” She pauses, then tacks on, “And it’s hard to keep the fact that your girlfriend went pro to yourself…”

Now that she thinks about it, Adora does have to admit that Catra is right. It doesn’t make it less weird though. She turns back to Katie. “Yeah, uh, it was a while ago though. I, uh, I’m a grad student now.”

Katie sticks out her hand and grins. “Don’t downplay it. I’ve seen your footage, She-Ra.”

Adora smiles back, even though inside she’s buzzing with nerves, and shakes Katie’s hand. The other woman’s grip is crushing. She scoots past Katie and Catra to sit down.

Catra hands Adora her skates, which she had put in her weekend bag with no small amount of apprehension this morning before getting on the road.

Another woman who had been lacing up her skates, twists around and looks back, eyes wide. “She-Ra? Wow I kinda thought everyone was just pulling my leg.”

Adora blushes furiously. “Uh…hi?” She scratches the back of her neck. “Yep, that’s me.”

The other woman hikes up her knees to her chest and spins around on the bench to fully face Adora. “I was a senior during the Olympics, and our team had watch parties of all the US games!” She starts bombarding Adora with questions, about her former teammates, the games, and what kind of food they ate in the Olympic Village.

Adora does her best to answer rapid-fire while she puts on her skates, but after a couple minutes there’s a whole circle of people listening and occasionally asking their own questions. Adora doesn’t love being the center of attention, but it was probably unavoidable if she’s being honest with herself instead of self-deprecating.

Catra is sitting next to her with a huge grin on her face, and Adora can tell she’s been waiting to be able to show her girlfriend off for a while. It makes her feel warm in her chest to see the way Catra looks so _proud_.

After a few minutes of this, Catra breaks in. “Alright alright, give her some space guys!”

“C’mon Catra, it’s not every day an actual Olympian comes to our practice!” One person pipes up, and there are general noises of assent from the group.

Adora clears her throat. “So, uh, yeah, I’m Adora, and Catra said I could join you guys while I’m here over the weekend?”

Someone pipes up, “I call her for my team!”

Catra shoots back lightning-fast, “She’ll be on whatever team I’m on, _end of discussion_,” which makes Adora’s heart swell and elicits groans from the other players. She’d been hoping…and clearly Catra has too.

As Adora finishes tying her skates and stands up, déjà vu hits her like a tidal wave. Here they are, getting ready next to each other, surrounded by the bone-deep familiar sounds of a hockey team. She sneaks a glance at Catra. Catra’s hockey team, even if it’s not Adora’s.

Her girlfriend is just finished tying her laces, moving with the automatic smoothness of someone who has done this exact thing ten thousand times before. She tucks them in, and glances over at Adora.

Adora blushes at having been caught staring, but she smiles and gently knocks her skate into Catra’s. “Just like old times, right?”

Catra cocks one eyebrow and smirks at Adora. “Not _quite_ like old times…” She stands up, and pecks Adora on the cheek. Adora turns into it, trying to turn it into a real kiss, but Catra dances away a second later. “Save it for later, princess,” Catra giggles, and sneaks another peck on Adora’s other cheek.

One of the players calls out, “Get a room!”

Catra is the one blushing now, and she ducks her head sheepishly. “Oh my god these guys are the worst. Prepare to be chirped to death.”

Adora snorts, and stands up. She holds out her hand to Catra. “Ready to play?”

Catra takes it. “Absolutely.”

Adora can’t help but catalogue the way Catra’s body is pressed against hers, but unfortunately now is _not_ the time.

Katie tosses Catra two red pinnies, which she catches one-handed. She hands Adora one, and pulls the other one over her head. “I already told them what position you play. They’re pretty excited to play with you, Adora.” She pauses for a second, then amends, “_I’m _really excited to play with you.”

Adora reaches out and gives Catra’s hand a quick squeeze. “Me too,” she says quietly.

When the blade of her skate hits the ice, Adora’s nerves drop away, and she feels more than sees Catra follow her. She pushes into the ice and sprints away from Catra, partially to do a couple warmup laps, but also because she knows with 100% certainty that Catra will chase after her.

She practically flies around the rink, Catra first hot on her tail, then neck and neck, then pulling ahead just a hair before skidding to a stop in an avalanche of shredded ice. Adora nearly bowls into her, but does her own (almost as) clean stop a split second later. She grins at Catra, and Catra grins back. Her cheeks are flushed, her breath is a cloud at her lips, and the look in her eyes feels like a warm bath on Adora’s skin.

They’re interrupted by a couple wolf whistles from the team, and someone calls, “Damn, you sure we can’t break them up?”

Katie laughs and calls back, “Next time you bring _your_ girlfriend to practice we’ll talk. Oh wait, you don’t have one.”

There’s more laughter, and Adora glides to center ice and takes up her position.

When she glances to the side, Catra is right there. She meets Adora’s eyes and lifts her chin, a smile playing around her lips and fire in her eyes. And for once, Adora’s instincts are exactly right. Catra is on _her_ team now, and everything clicks together all at once. She…_does_ love hockey. And maybe there’s space for her to find it again, with Catra firmly at her side.

#### 4 months later

Adora wakes up and everything is blissfully, dreamily perfect. The sun filtering through the curtains feels good against her skin, and her body is lethargic and deliciously exhausted from last night. Catra’s legs are tangled with hers, and she instinctually curls towards Catra’s body even before she’s fully awake.

When Adora pries open her sleep-laden eyes a couple minutes later, she can’t help but admire the play of the sunlight on Catra’s skin, the way the sun catches in her hair and makes a halo of it. She snuggles closer and lets her eyes slide shut again.

Five minutes later, Adora sits bolt upright, heart pounding. Today is the day.

Her sudden motion wakes up Catra. “Morning,” Catra says, voice gravelly. Adora would like nothing better than to sink back down next to her and continue where they left off last night, but now that she’s awake, she won’t be able to focus on anything except her thesis defense. Still, she turns, because despite her nerves Catra in the mornings is her favorite.

In the mornings, when she wakes up, Catra’s voice is raspy from disuse and her hair is mussed and her eyes are heavy with sleep. She props herself up on one elbow, which makes the strap of her tank top slip off her shoulder, and Adora is riveted to the slope her neck and shoulders make. If it wasn’t _today_…

But it is, and that can wait for tonight because now that Adora’s brain is fully online, she won’t really be able to think of anything else until her committee tells her the results.

She swings her legs off the bed and stares at her feet on the floor.

There’s a shuffling sound behind her, and then Catra’s arms come around her waist from behind, and her forehead is pressed into Adora’s shoulder. It’s comforting, grounding. “You’re going to do great, Adora,” Catra says quietly, “They’re going to love it, don’t worry. They already love your work. This is just a formality.”

Adora lets out a shaky breath. “I know. I think. I just won’t be able to relax until they tell me for sure.”

“I know,” Catra mumbles, “I just thought you could use a reminder.”

Adora closes her eyes and leans back into Catra just a little. “I do. Thank you.”

Adora gently extricates herself from Catra and stands up, which is enough to get Swiftwind to perk up his ears from his place on his dog bed. She turns back and tucks a lock of hair behind Catra’s ear. Catra gazes up at her with so much love, and faith, and care, that it makes Adora’s heart ache.

She can’t resist tracing Catra’s jaw with her fingertips before gently tilting Catra’s chin up and leaning down to kiss her softly, just for a moment. Well, maybe a little longer than a moment. When she draws back, Catra’s eyes are still closed and her head remains tilted back, no trace of tension anywhere in her body.

Adora murmurs, “I’m going to start the coffee. Want any?”

Catra’s eyelids flutter open. “Yeah,” she says softly, then clears her throat and says more assertively. “Who do you think I am, anyway?”

Adora snorts. “A coffee addict, that’s who.”

“Takes one to know one,” Catra says cheekily.

Adora pulls a sweatshirt over her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yep,” Catra says, now getting out of bed too.

“Oh, you don’t have to—you can go back to sleep…” Adora starts, but Catra interrupts her.

“It’s your big day, and you’re already jittery Adora. I’m not gonna sleep in while my girlfriend is making me coffee. Also, I know you’re not going to eat breakfast unless I make you.”

Adora will admit that this is probably true. “I’m still going to make us coffee.”

Catra laughs, “That _is_ kind of your job.”

Which it is, whether she’s staying with Catra for the weekend or vice-versa. Partially this is because Adora, despite much effort, still burns the pancakes every time she attempts them, and Catra has decided that coffee is the one thing she’s actually decent at. And partially because Adora is naturally an early riser, and it is much easier to convince Catra to get _up _and spend _time_ with her if she comes back to bed with a caffeinated beverage in each hand. And morning sex is _really_ nice.

And Catra isn’t wrong about Adora’s current state of nervousness, and she also knows that being up with Adora will help. Adora isn’t sure what she did to deserve this kind of care.

Adora does make the coffee while Catra mixes up batter and starts heating up the cast iron pan that she brought after one disastrous attempt to use Adora’s cooking wares for a whole weekend.

Coffee is easy, but Adora is much pickier about it than Catra and brings her own beans whenever she goes to visit Catra for the weekend. A few minutes later, Adora hands Catra her steaming mug with a kiss right as Catra pours the first round of pancakes, and Catra asks, “Wanna shower while I’m making the rest of these?”

“Okay,” Adora nods, and gulps down half her coffee before going to do just that.

When she comes back into the kitchen fresh from her shower, hair wrapped in a towel on top of her head, Catra is just flipping the last of the pancakes onto a plate. She carries the loaded plate to the table and glances back to Adora in the kitchen. “Can you grab the syrup and stuff?”

Adora brings everything to the table, and they sit down. She forks three pancakes onto her plate and practically drowns them in butter and syrup before digging in. She’s nervous, yes, and she definitely would have gone without breakfast if Catra hadn’t been here, but Adora has never been one to refuse food that is placed in front of her. And Catra’s pancakes are perfectly light and fluffy and delicious.

Catra watches her. “So, today’s the day.”

Adora washes down her pancakes with a gulp of milk before saying, “I can’t believe…” she trails off. What is there to say? She’s finishing her program this term. After today, theoretically, she will officially be _Doctor_ Adora Sherman. She can’t quite believe it. She refocuses on Catra. “Thanks for coming up, it…I’m just really glad you’re here.”

Catra smiles softly. “Of course I was going to come up. It’s not every day your girlfriend earns her PhD.”

Adora glances at her watch, and her heart-rate spikes. “Fuck. We have to get going like, _now_.”

She practically flies back into the bedroom and throws on the outfit that she’d carefully picked two weeks ago, which is hanging on the back of the door, all freshly ironed and clean. She went with a cream colored blazer and matching pants, and heels that make her feel like she’s a high-powered businesswoman or something. They make her feel confident, is the point, and she needs all the confidence she can get.

Catra comes in after her a minute later, holding a couple gold bracelets out to Adora. “For luck.”

Adora pauses her frenzy and picks one of the delicate, simple bangles out of Catra’s palm. “Where did these come from?” She asks, slipping them onto her wrist one at a time. They’re beautiful. One is hammered gold, the other shiny and smooth. They look good on her wrist, and also conveniently distract from the tan line where she usually wears her watch.

Catra shrugs, carefully casual. “I thought you could use something special. Something new.”

Adora swallows. “They’re beautiful, Catra.”

Catra lightly grasps Adora’s wrist, the one the bracelets are now on, and turns it over palm up. She brings Adora’s hand to her mouth, and presses a kiss to that soft skin on her inner wrist. It gives Adora butterflies in her stomach, it makes her heart melt, it makes her eyes flutter shut. Catra says, voice low, “You deserve beautiful things. And today is a big day. It was a good opportunity.” And then Catra meets her eyes, and now _Catra _blushes. “Oh my god Adora, shut _up_.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Adora says with a little smirk.

“You’re _thinking_ and it’s so goddamn loud, shut the fuck up.”

“I love you,” Adora breathes through her smile, and she loves the way that Catra has to look away.

“I love you too, idiot,” Catra mutters, then meets Adora’s gaze again. She reaches up and straightens Adora’s collar. “You brilliant genius who is going to kick _ass_ at her dissertation defense.”

Adora’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, we really have to go _now_.” She grabs her backpack with all the materials she’ll need, and they hurry out of her apartment, down the stairs to Adora’s car.

It’s a short drive to the Physics and Astronomy building on campus, but Adora’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel the whole time. She’s tense, and her stomach is a ball of nerves. She’s ridiculously glad that Catra had said yes when Adora had asked her to come up this weekend. This would normally be an off weekend, where neither of them was visiting each other, and Adora had hesitated when picking the date of her defense. But this had been the only day for the next two months that her whole committee had been free, and she’d just had to go with it.

She’d hesitated before asking Catra too, because when they decided on the visiting schedule, they’d agreed that it would be unfeasible to see each other every weekend. They both have lives, after all, and Adora has school still and they both have friends, and whenever she’s with Catra all Adora really wants to do is spend time with her. But she’d asked anyway, because she’s trying to be better about asking for things. And Catra had immediately said yes, followed by, _Of course I’ll be there, no matter what the schedule is. It’s just a schedule, we can always break it._

Which was a very good point, and something Adora had flagged in the back of her head to remind herself. And so even though she saw Catra just last weekend, her girlfriend is in the passenger seat, texting up a storm.

To try to get her mind off her imminent defense, Adora asks, “Who’re you texting?”

Catra responds, “Uh…Glimmer, actually.”

Adora was surprised just how well Catra and Glimmer got along at the end of last winter. But it seems like they’re too similar not to be friends, once they’d gotten over themselves a little. And they’re antagonistic as hell to each other, but it’s clear that they have fun trying to rile each other up. At the root of it, Catra and Glimmer genuinely like each other and enjoy being friends.

“What’re she and Bow up to this weekend?”

Catra looks unexpectedly cagey at this. “Just, you know. Chilling? Doing chill things?”

Adora shoots her an inquisitive look, but she has much bigger things to think about than this at the moment.

After a minute, Catra says, “Bow says good luck.”

Adora eyebrows go up. “You’re texting _both_ of them?”

Catra slips her phone back into her pocket and nods. “I’m done though. You have my full attention.”

Adora pulls into the parking lot of the Physics and Astronomy building, parks, and gets out of the car. She grabs the satchel containing her notes, water bottle, and a snack, and then she and Catra walk into the building that almost feels like a second home at this point. Adora has certainly stayed here enough late nights for it to qualify. Catra unloads Swiftwind out of the back seat.

They arrive outside the lecture hall. There’s already a piece of paper taped to the door that says, _Thesis Defense in Progress. Do not Interrupt._

At the sight of it, Adora’s heart feels like it’s going to leap out of her chest. She takes a deep breath, then another, then another—Swiftwind bumps his nose against her knee, and she automatically reaches down and scratches behind his ears, just where he likes it.

Catra drops the leash to the ground, and her hands go to Adora’s shoulders. “Hey, Adora, look at me for a second.”

Adora’s eyes shut for a moment, brow furrowed, and then she meets Catra’s gaze. She tries to relax, and can’t quite manage it.

Catra squeezes her shoulders gently, and then her hands slide down Adora’s arms until they find Adora’s own, sweaty palms. She says quietly, “You’re going to do great, okay? You know your own research, and you’ve been practicing your presentation for weeks. You _have_ this. And I’m going to be sitting right here until you’re done.”

“Okay,” Adora whispers, looking down at their linked hands. Her eyes are getting all watery, which isn’t great because she’s about to walk into a lecture hall and present her dissertation to her committee. But she can’t help it.

Adora would have gotten her PhD done, eventually. But she would have played it safe like she was doing before last winter, so safe that hardly anyone would have cared or bothered to read her thesis. She knows that her struggle pre-Amundson-Scott was half perfectionism and anxiety, and half the fact that she’d taken out all the parts of her research that she really cared about, leaving her feeling unmotivated and dispassionate about it. And in academia, passion is the thing that pushes you forward, keeps you sane and happy and motivated. Adora loves astronomy more than anything, and she hates to think of what her career would have looked like without the wakeup call that Catra had given her this winter.

But today she’s walking into that lecture hall to present her thesis. And she’s proud of it, really, actually _proud_. Yes, she’s really fucking anxious, but she knows she’d be ten times more so if she didn’t know Catra and Swiftwind will be waiting outside the whole time.

Things just feel better with Catra in her life, in a way that Adora doesn’t totally understand but wholeheartedly embraces. She feels more grounded, has fewer anxiety attacks.

There are some things that Catra actually _does_, like making breakfast so Adora doesn’t forget, or talking her through a panic attack. But there a multitude of small ways that are just how Catra _is, _that make Adora feel a little more grounded, a little more comfortable in her own skin, a little more like the best version of herself that she wants to be. Catra makes her want to be that person.

Adora whispers, “You’re so good to me. I don’t—“

“Hey,” Catra interrupts, because she knows exactly what Adora was going to say. “Remember what we’ve talked about. It’s not about deserving. Now go in there and knock their socks off.” Catra kisses her, then says cheekily, “For luck.”

Adora’s surprised laugh breaks the heavy net of anxiety that has been growing all morning. “Okay. I’m doing this. I’m _doing _this.”

She drops Catra’s hands, and gives Swiftwind a good pet before picking up her satchel again. She smiles at Catra, and this time it doesn’t feel forced. “See you on the flip side.”

And she walks into the hall.

### Catra

Catra glances at her phone. It’s been an hour and a half, which means Adora should be almost done. There are half a dozen notifications from Glimmer and Bow. She opens their group chat.

The separate one she’d made a couple weeks ago, to coordinate, that Adora isn’t in.

_Bow: Is she done yet? I’m hungry :’(_

_Glimmer: Oh my god Bow, she’s defending her thesis! Be patient!_

_Bow: This cake just looks really good and I want to give Adora her present already! We haven’t seen her in like a month!_

_Glimmer: I know I’m so excited!!!_

_Glimmer: Catra, is she done yet?_

_Bow: Now YOU’RE the one being impatient_

Catra scrolls through the messages and rolls her eyes fondly. Bow and Glimmer are undoubtedly sitting right next to each other in Adora’s favorite pub, munching on bar fries or something.

She texts them. _maybe if u waited more than 2 minutes b4 asking she will be done when u ask_

Bow sends a crying emoji immediately. _I’m just excited!!_

Catra is about to respond, but right then, Adora bursts out of the lecture hall, beaming.

Catra stands up immediately, letting the phone clatter to the bench she’s been sitting on. “So?” she asks excitedly.

Adora rushes to Catra, picks her up by the waist and swings her in a circle. She exclaims, “I passed! I have a fucking PhD!”

Adora sets Catra back down and Catra instantly embraces her in a tight hug. “I knew you would. I _knew_ you would,” she says into Adora’s shoulder. When she pulls back, there are tears in Adora’s eyes and Catra blinks and discovers that her eyes are wet too.

“I’m so proud of you,” Catra says, quieter but just as intense. “I think the only person who’s read your thesis who doubted you was you, but I’m still so fucking proud.”

Adora sighs in relief. “I just…didn’t want to hope.” She wipes the tears off her cheeks, but Catra knows they’re tears of relief.

Swiftwind is tangled up in their legs now, infected by their energy, and he pants and wags his tail and looks absolutely adorable until Adora kneels to pet him. (Okay, Swiftwind has grown on Catra.)

Catra smiles and watches Adora coo over Swiftwind for a minute. Then she asks, “What do you want to do to celebrate?”

Adora glances up at her from the floor and blinks slowly. “Oh god, I think I just want to sleep for a million years.”

Catra isn’t going to be deterred by Adora’s unintentional plan-dampening. “What? No, you deserve _one_ drink at the PUB. I want to celebrate you!” She says coaxingly.

Adora yawns, and scratches Swiftwind for a few more seconds, but then she nods. “You know what, you’re right. We should celebrate. I’ll rally. How many times do you get your PhD? I mean, I guess if I got another degree or something…” She trails off. “If I’d thought about it earlier, maybe I could have organized a happy hour or something…whatever. It’ll be just fine with the two of us.”

Catra _nailed_ her. She _knew_ Adora wouldn’t think to organize anything, when she was so caught up in prepping for her big day, but she also knows Adora, and knows that she’d probably wish something had been planned. “Yeah, it’ll be fun!”

She picks up Adora’s satchel and loops it over her shoulder. “Ready?”

Adora gets to her feet and picks up Swiftwind’s leash. “Yeah, let’s go get a drink.”

When they walk into the pub, the room is instantly filled with cheers. Adora stops short and blinks for a second, and Catra can practically _hear_ her processing the scene in front of her.

It’s not just Glimmer and Bow here. It’s everyone from the station that Catra could reasonably entice to come to Madison. Bow, and Glimmer, and Scorpia and Perfuma but also Mermista and Sea Hawk, and somewhat surprisingly, Spinnerella and Netossa. Catra had reached out to everyone she knew was back in the states, which isn’t everyone but is certainly enough for a decent group.

Adora turns to Catra, hand over her mouth. “Did you do this?”

Catra just smirks, places her hand on the small of Adora’s back and leads her to the bar. She leans on the bar and flags down the bartender. “Hey my amazing girlfriend here just defended her thesis and passed with flying colors. Make her something good.”

Adora blushes. “You weren’t even in there, you don’t _know_—“

But Catra turns Adora’s jaw towards her so she can kiss her. It’s not the greatest kiss, because Catra is smiling too much, but she can’t help it. “I do know, actually. Because I know _you_. Flying colors, you hear? And don’t forget, I’ve read it.”

Adora grins and wrinkles her nose. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Catra says cheerfully, “You like it though.”

Adora lets out a little huff of fond laughter. “Yeah, I do.”

The bartender slides a drink over to Adora. It looks extremely fancy to Catra, which is appropriate. She hands him her card. “And open a tab while you’re at it. Can we get some fries too?”

Adora picks up the drink and takes a sip. “Oh man, this is really good.”

Catra grins. “I thought it would be.”

She and Adora head back to the group. Right before they reach their friends, Adora turns to her. “Thanks,” she says quietly. “This is…perfect.”

Catra grins and squeezes her hand. “You’re welcome.”

#### 6 months later

### Adora

_“Flight to McMurdo departing in ten minutes!_” A voice over the loudspeaker says.

Adora lets out a relieved sigh.

Glimmer, who is standing next to her reading a sign about penguin colonies, says, “_Finally_, I’m about to sweat to death.”

Adora agrees with that statement. She’s uncomfortably warm, which is to say she’s boiling. They’re already geared up in their standard-issue overcoats and pants and all the associated layers, because while the flight is _somewhat_ heated, it is not what anyone would call temperate.

Plus, the bulky cold weather clothing takes up a truly astronomical amount of space, and Adora prefers to actually bring _clothes_ to Amundsen-Scott instead of one very large, very red coat. So while the International Antarctic Centre has many informative and lifelike descriptors of Antarctic life, they’d elected _not_ to keep the temperature below freezing, and Adora can’t wait to be on a plane the temperature of a refrigerator truck.

Adora glances around the International Antarctic Centre wing of the airport for Catra’s familiar mop of hair, but she doesn’t immediately spot her. She turns to Glimmer. “I’ll catch up to you! I don’t want Catra to miss our flight.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Just say you want to go make out with your girlfriend behind the Ice Age mammals display. But don’t take too long, okay? They’re not gonna hold the plane for you, and Bow and I do _not_ want to be stuck with both of your luggage until the next flight.”

Adora sputters, but Glimmer is already heading back to where Bow is camped out with all four of their duffel bags and a scalding cup of coffee he’s frantically blowing on to cool it enough to chug before they board.

“I’m not—I wasn’t going to—_Glimmer_!” Adora calls after her, but Glimmer just waltzes away, and after a second Adora lets it go. Glimmer loves teasing her and Catra, and honestly Adora wouldn’t have it any other way. She stands on her tiptoes to scan the room a second time across the maze of informational displays.

There are parents and kids everywhere. The Christchurch museum is a popular destination for families, and Adora can see why. There are interactive displays, games, and even a mock-up of an early 20th century field camp that kids can play in. All of which mean that the room is crowded enough that Adora still hasn’t spotted Catra.

She wanders through the exhibit, skimming informational signs that she and Glimmer hadn’t gotten to. She’s just reading one about penguins (there are _no_ _penguins_ at the South Pole which frankly Adora finds personally offensive) when she’s tackled into a bear hug from behind.

Adora takes a step forward to catch herself, already laughing and unwinding familiar arms from around her waist. “Catra!”

Catra squeezes her tightly, then lets go and grabs her hand. “Okay we have like, ten minutes. Which means…” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at Adora, and Adora snorts.

“I am _not_ making out with you behind the ice age mammals.”

Catra’s expression twists into one of glee. “Oh is that what you want to do?”

Adora blushes. “I mean—you said—“ she fumbles.

But Catra puts her out of her misery before she can dig herself too deep of a hole. She pecks Adora on the cheek and then tugs her in the direction of the life-size models of mammoths and saber toothed tigers. “We have a few minutes, and then we’ll be stuck on a plane for hours.”

Adora hisses, “There are _children, _Catra!” although she lets herself be led without resistance.

Catra just shrugs. “They can look away.”

She doesn’t _really _care about the children, but it’s also a little fun to let Catra convince her to go along with it. Catra is always doing this. She’ll give Adora that _look_ and then drag her into a dark alley or an empty hallway or even the bathroom when they were at Bow and Glimmer’s place for game night (Bow and Glimmer had complained about that one). Maybe it’s just because they got into the habit last winter. But Adora goes willingly, eagerly, every time.

The next thing she knows, Catra ducks behind the wooly mammoth and Adora follows. It’s kind of cramped back here behind the diorama, and they’re not _really_ all that hidden, and Adora definitely thinks they aren’t supposed to be back here, but Adora is almost immediately distracted by Catra’s mouth on hers, and Catra’s hands sliding up the back of her shirt, and all her thoughts fly out the window.

What feels like no time at all later, Adora’s phone starts buzzing in her back pocket. She pulls it out and disentangles herself from Catra. “Hello?” She asks, breathless.

Bow says, “_You two better get over here, or you’re actually going to miss our flight. And then I’ll be stuck carrying your bags.”_

Adora grins sheepishly at Catra and says to her phone, “Sorry, we got, uh, sidetracked. Be right there.”

She hangs up, and Catra cackles. “Someone’s in trouuuble!”

“Yeah, both of us, you’re the one who dragged me into the nearest dark corner,” Adora teases.

Catra wiggles her eyebrows. “But you didn’t exactly refuse.”

Adora grins. “No. But c’mon, we have to get back.”

They hurry back through the exhibit back to the main airport. It’s not exactly a regular airport; the only flights are to and from McMurdo, and instead of having any kind of boarding pass, they just tell the attendant their name and show their ID to board.

Bow is already standing up, his bag slung over his shoulder. His expression melts into one of relief when he sees the two of them. “Phew, I was getting worried you guys weren’t going to make it. Everyone else has already boarded.”

Glimmer stands up from where she’d been sitting on her duffel bag, and hauls it up too. She gestures at the two remaining bags. “You guys pack the heaviest I’ve ever seen, geez.”

Adora grins and hauls her bag over one shoulder. It _is_ heavy. She’d refined her packing list after last winter, and this time she’s confident that she has exactly what she’ll need for the next six months and nothing extra.

Catra’s packing style is a lot closer to “pack the necessities and then cram everything else you can fit in”, which is how she’s always done things. Both styles result in the densest bags either of them can manage.

Bow nods and grins at the three of them. “The Best Friend Squad goes to Antarctica, second edition is a go!” They start off in the direction of their gate.

The PA system crackles to life once again. _“Last call to McMurdo!” _The four of them break into a run._ “Will Glimmer Brightmoon, Catra Rom—never mind, we see you.”_

The people at the gate watch in amusement as the four of them skid to a stop in front of the podium next to the door to the tarmac. The attendant rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “You’re cutting it pretty close.”

Adora pants and wipes sweat from her forehead. She’s about to _die_ from all the clothes she’s wearing, and puts her bag down for a moment to unzip another layer. “Sorry—“ she says, out of breath, “My—fault—“

Glimmer snorts. “These two are dumbasses, that’s why. Glimmer Brightmoon.” She shows the attendant her passport, and gets a nod in return, and then she heads out the door into the sunny New Zealand afternoon.

They board the plane, and find a spot that will fit all four of them, their bags, and Swiftwind. This plane is a lot bigger than the one from McMurdo to Amundsen-Scott that they’ll take tomorrow, and it has a lot more people. Adora doesn’t spot any familiar faces.

She and Catra nestle themselves into a corner with their luggage. Not a minute after they’re all settled, she hears the boarding doors close, and the plane engine starts up.

“I can’t believe we’re already going back,” Catra says after a minute.

“Me neither,” Adora mumbles, “feels like the last six months went by in no time.”

That’s not _quite_ true. There had been plenty of moments when Adora had curled up in her bed, alone, with Catra hundreds of miles away, when time had seemed to crawl by. But it had also been crammed with so many things, that she can’t quite believe it’s really half a year later already. She continues, “Do you think they got the accommodation request?”

Adora can hear Catra’s grin in her voice. “I can’t believe we’re doing this again, like we’re back in college.”

Adora perks her head up from where it had been resting on Catra’s shoulder and laughs in surprise, “Oh my god I didn’t even think of that!”

Catra wrinkles her nose. “Really? Pushing our twin beds together? I still can’t believe the winter wing has nothing except singles.”

“It’ll be fun!” Adora says brightly, then frowns. “Well, except for the crack between the mattresses. Remember when you got stuck that one time?”

Catra groans. “I thought you’d forgotten about that one.”

Adora smirks. “I’d _never_ forget about you freaking out about an arm when it was actually just your own arm falling asleep. My abs were sore from laughing so hard.”

“Jerk.”

“You love me though.”

Catra glances down and laces their fingers together. “Yeah, Adora. I really fucking do.”

Adora lifts their entwined hands up and kisses the knuckles. “I can’t wait to spend all winter with you.”

The plane’s engines pick up, and they start trundling down the runway. Adora snuggles closer to Catra. It’s been almost exactly a year since she first arrived at Amundsen-Scott. Adora supposes the fact that she’s going back a second time means that she’s one of those crazy people that somehow actually _likes_ living in the most inhospitable place on the planet. Every passing minute, instead of feeling nervous for the winter ahead, she feels more settled. She’s looking _forward_ to getting to the South Pole. She’s looking forward to working with Catra again, this time without the tension of last winter. She’s excited to see all their friends, especially the ones who hadn’t come back to the states for the summer season. She’s excited to push two twin beds together and make a tiny room into a home.

Catra’s fingers relax in hers, and Adora realizes she’s asleep, lulled by the vibration of the engine. She glances over at Bow and Glimmer. Bow is reading a book on his kindle, and Glimmer is also asleep already with her head in his lap. Bow meets her eyes and smiles, and Adora smiles back.

She’s getting sleepy too, now, and it’s a long flight. Adora lets her eyelids drift shut. They’re on their way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! And with that, that's a wrap! Thank you all for reading, and thank you for all the lovely comments and fanarts and support. This story has been so much fun, and I literally could not have done it without all y'all cheering me on. It's been a blast, and I'm so happy to have the whole story exist on the internet now, in its entirety!! I have to laugh though, because when I started writing it I thought it would clock in at...10,000 words TOPS. And then the first chapter alone was like 5000 words, and my fate was set. I'm definitely planning on continuing to write she-ra fanfic though, not to worry! If you want to stay updated on what I'm working on, follow me on [tumblr](https://herothehardway.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/sheraonice1)!  
Also, @_amllis did this super cute [breadmaking comic](https://twitter.com/_amllis/status/1287433269332647936?s=20) and @bananabluff also did a really awesome [breadmaking comic](https://twitter.com/_amllis/status/1287433269332647936?s=20), and @KatyKromatik did this [beautiful portrait of Catra](https://twitter.com/KatyKromatik/status/1280609498529509377?s=20) inspired by Antarctica, so y'all should go check them all out cuz they're awesome!! I'm never gonna get over people doing fanart of Antarctica :D (Also, the gays sure like bread baking huh? xD I love it) Also this is a blanket permission for anyone who wants to do fanart, u don't gotta ask me just show me when ur done :D
> 
> And now I'm gonna get really sappy. I don't think I can ever fully express what She-Ra means to me. That's it's full stop. I started writing this fic after season 1, because I just couldn't stop thinking about Adora and Catra (Relatable content right here). I started writing this story partially because of them, but also partially because I wanted things. So I wrote a story about being in a career that you love, and falling in love and staying that way, and talking about feelings and have it mean something and making friends, best friends. Fucking up and getting back up and forgiving and being forgiven and trying, really trying, again and again and again.  
And along the way, I learned a lot about myself too. Apparently, part of writing is submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known? By others and also by myself? Who knew?? Some pretty cool things have happened because of writing this fic. I've made some really awesome friends. I fell in love. I decided that I need to keep trying to get into astro, because it's what I really, REALLY want to do, even though rejection is hard. I think I understand myself a little better because of this story, and She-Ra.  
We live in an uncertain, scary world, and there are so many things telling us that we need to shoulder through. But we're meant to do it together, not alone. We're meant to love, even if it risks losing. We're meant to help each other, support one another. When I think about the future, I know it's a little brighter because of She-Ra. So thank you She-Ra, and thank you Noelle, for putting this story and these characters into the world. Thanks for changing my life for good.


End file.
